Glitchstuck
by RavensofOdin
Summary: The original twelve are long gone. Off-world, dead, it doesn't matter. Their impact remains, and twelve young trolls are left to fill the gap. But all is not the same. For this time, things will different. This time, things will not go "according to plan." This time, the rules of the most dangerous game in the multiverse will be broken. This is GLITCHSTUCK.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Homestuck or any of the characters associated with it. I only own my own characters, which are based in Andrew Hussie's universe.**

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**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

A young troll boy stands inside his room. And today, the tenth bilunar perigee of the thirtieth dark season's equinox, is this troll's wriggling day. Though it was eight solar so insert show social sweeps ago that he was given life, it is only today that he shall be given a name. Take your pick.

Enter name: Weeb Doucheballoon.

Oh god, here we go. You're really going to follow that stupid cliche? You know the one, where the reader decides to be a dickwad and tries to give these characters, which I have carefully cultivated until their personalities were perfect, the worst names on the face of the galaxy. Yea no, I ain't tolerating that. Try again, jackass.

Enter Name: Vallem Ammena.

Your name is VALLEM AMMENA. As previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY. How you managed to survive this long (even with YOUR FAIRLY HIGH BLOOD STATUS) is beyond your comprehension. You tend to piss off the HIGHBLOODS, who really do not like you because you endorse LOWBLOOD EQUALITY MOVEMENTS and you have no sense of PERSONAL SPACE.

You have a very ENERGETIC PERSONALITY, which people either describe as CONTAGIOUS or ANNOYING. You try to keep your craziness cooled with your LUXURY RELAXATION GARDEN, but you do have an extreme SWEET TOOTH which doesn't help in your efforts. Because of your ACTIVENESS and HIGH METABOLISM, your body shape has been said to resemble A TOOTHPICK.

You have a few INTERESTS. You love all sorts of WILD ANIMALS, and any abandoned strays you make it your duty to care for and nurture in your garden. Subsequently, you are also a FIDUSPAWN ENTHUSIAST, but you are only somewhat good at the card game. But by far, your favorite hobby is MUSIC: and you are extremely good at it. You know how to play SEVEN INSTRUMENTS with ease, your favorite being the CHIN-SCREECHER, also known as the VIOLIN.

Your online name is melodicApostle, and you speak in a way ))tzhat reprezentz your zign and your hornz, and tzhat you feel iz high-clazz.

What will you do?

Narrator: Fix the camera.

What the fuck are you talking about? Is there something wrong with the video quality? Goddamnit, hold on just a sec... holy shit, this computer is goddamn busted! Jesus christ, is that a spider?

I guess that teaches me to never buy an observing computer from a drug dealer. Well, I guess we'll have to make do with text! Sound good? No? Well too bad, I don't have a goddamn computer tree hanging around whenever I need it. Deal with it.

...Okay, where was I? Ah yes... what will you do?

Vallem: Describe yourself.

Good work-around. Anyway, you are, of course, a troll of planet Alternia. You are a blue-blood, and you've made sure to follow the proper etiquette codes while also breaking them. Instead of the usual black everything, you went for a checkered blue-and-black dress shirt with your sign, Scorces, sewed onto the breast pocket. Take that, social norms! Below that, you just wear some basic jeans and boots.

Your hair... is a mess. You've tried on multiple occasions to tame it, or make it more manageable, but all of them were in vain, so you've given up. Out of the dark bramble comes your horns, which emerge on your upper forehead rather than your scalp. They somewhat remind you of bows, but they're much thicker than any bow. To try and describe it, they emerge from your head, curl backwards slowly, and then thin out as they curl forward again. Lastly, you grew like a weed as a grub, and you're finally tapering off at an astonishing height of six feet and five inches tall.

Vallem: Look around.

You're standing in your RESPITEBLOCK, the walls painted a cool cerulean blue. Three doors are on three walls of the square living space. On the fourth wall, your recuperacoon lies empty and your computer station sits dormant. Your violin displays itself proudly upon its stand, and a folder full of sheet music was haphazardly tossed beside it.

You also have a workstation, with hundreds of crumpled up papers piling up around it. Those papers contain many things: music compositions, drawings, stories. But you didn't really like them so you tossed them away. You'll make some better ones eventually.

Vallem: Inspect violin.

_Your precious_.

You are hella good with that thing, and you'd play on stage if you weren't hated by the highbloods. If there's one thing that can really calm you down, it's your music. The sweet sounds of the strings making a beautiful melody, it can make you more serene than a sleeping slowbeast.

You can play other instruments too. You prefer to use the highblood terms for them, as they sound much more majestic and beautiful: piano, guitar, flute, xylophone, trumpet, and banjo. If only you could play them all at once, then you'd be the happiest troll on the planet.

Vallem: Play a haunting violin refrain.

You carefully pick up the violin and it's bow, and it instantly registers as part of STRINGKIND, your Strife Specibus. You have another Strife Specibus, BOWKIND, for when you want to deal much more damage.

You press the violin to your chin, using the proper posture, and slide the bow across the strings. A calm notes emerges, and a chilling song begins to form. You put so much emotion into your movements, and it reflects on the music you play. After it's over, you feel very satisfied and place the violin back.

Vallem: Inspect doors.

The three doors lead to very different places. The first door leads to the balcony, which looks over the central chamber of your hive. Said chamber is a large auditorium with a massive glass dome roof. You sometimes invite your lusus and his family to listen to your playing, and occasionally they might join in with a chorus of humming and buzzing.

The second door leads to a staircase, which then takes you down into the auditorium itself. And the third and final door leads outside, to where your lusus and his family reside.

Suddenly, your computer chimes. It's the familiar notification sound of Trollian, the most popular chatting app on Alternia currently. Someone must have messaged you.

Vallem: Respond to message.

You decide to respond to the message. You sit down at your computer station and open the troll log.

wildernessIntrepid[WI] has begun trolling melodicApostle[MA].

WI: _Heiea! What's going on, bluebie?_

MA: ))Not much. Today'z been prettzy boring zo far, it'z ztzill early in tzhe zpin.

WI: _I guess that's true. Well, since ieou have nothing going on currentlie, do ieou have anie plans for todaie?_

MA: ))Nope. I'm a free tzroll today. Why do you azk?

WI: _Some big game just dropped. Everieone's rushing to plaie it, and I kinda gave into peer pressure a bit. 3:)_

MA: ))Uh-huh. What'z tzhis game called?

WI: _Sgrub!_

MA: ))What kinda name iz tzhat?

WI: _Who cares? Looks like a fun game._

MA: ))Tzen why don'tz you go play it yourzelf?

WI: _It's strictlie a multiplaier game, ieou need at least three trolls to plaie._

WI: _Preferablie I'd like to get more than that. So I'm asking mie friends, and putting out a recruiting thing online._

MA: ))You know I do not do people very well.

WI: _Please, bluebie? It'll be fun! Plus, I heard that there's a reward to those who complete it. 3;)_

MA: ))...fiiiine.

WI: _Iees! Thanks, dude! Ieou won't regret it!_

MA: ))I tzhink I already am.

melodicApostle has gone offline.

WI: _He reallie needs to get better at people._

wildernessIntrepid has ceased trolling melodicApostle.

Vallem: Be someone else.

The broke-ass camera shifts focus focus to a relaxed troll girl. She's sprawled out on a loungeplank, and her eyes are closed as she rests. What's her name?

Enter name: Lazy Fatass.

Hey! She's not fat, she's just a little chubby. She even exercises! Besides, that's straight up body shaming, what the hell is wrong with you?

Wait... oh my god, you made her fucking cry! You utter douchenozzle, you just made a very emotional teenage girl start sobbing on her fucking couch, simply because you called her fat. You know what, no more naming privileges. You don't deserve them after you MADE THIS GIRL CRY.

Your name is NAERYS CIVELL. You are a GOLDBLOOD of MIDDLING PSIONIC ABILITY, which means you can move small to medium-sized shit around the place. You try to practice and improve, but you always FAIL SPECTACULARLY. You are somewhat SOLITARY, as you don't respond well to CRITICISM and kind of let people WALK ALL OVER YOU. You are very EMOTIONAL, so if someone happens to say something MEAN, there's a good chance you'll have a BREAKDOWN.

As for your INTERESTS, you can easily be described as a BOOKWORM. You have hundreds of shelves filled with STORIES OF ALL GENRES, each of which you have read at least once. You love to WRITE STORIES OF YOUR OWN, but all of them are admittedly filled with CLICHES. You also love to DRAW, but you are, frankly, quite terrible at it.

What will you do?

Naerys: Describe yourself.

As you previously mentioned, you are a goldblood. Your sign is Gemiborn, which you keep on a necklace. You usually wear your favorite hoodie, which is an extremely thick and comfortable black hoodie. It helps hide your slight chub, so you always wear it. You also wear some grey sweatpants and sneakers, both of which you picked out yourself because you crave the MAXIMUM amount of comfort.

Your hair is a bit raggedy, but you keep it fairly tame. You've also given yourself gold highlights on the ends, which you think helps you look pretty. Since you are a psionic, you have solid multi-colored eyes: in this case, one is solid bright yellow and another solid red. You have two sets of horns, like most goldbloods: the first set, the main one, emerges from the top of your head, then sways back and forth a couple of times. Your secondary horns are simply smaller versions of those. Lastly, you stand at a kinda short height of five feet and four inches and you are closing in on your 8th wriggling day.

Naerys: Look around.

You look up from your hoodie, now soaked with tears in splotches. You're in your recreational block, where you would invite friends over for parties if you had any. A small table sits in front of you, where a mug of energetic nut-syrup lies untouched... so far. You'll probably drink it later.

You stand up on the soft carpet and observe the block. Most of the walls have shelving attached to them, and stocked to the brim with texts and stories. Only one doesn't have books, instead it has some board games. You often have to play by yourself, seeing as you don't really have anyone to play with.

Connect One is your personal favorite. It's a very short game of wits and speed. The premise: grab the singular token before the other person can, then chuck it into the slot. You're pretty great at it, at least when you're playing stuffed animals. You don't know how good you'd be if you played against actual trolls.

Other than the shelves, the only things else are your loungeplank, the table, and a medium-sized TV.

Naerys: Find a book.

You smile and wipe the tears away. Yea, that'll help you get your mind off those mean voices. You head over to the shelves, and quickly slide your hand over one of your favorites: The Ashen Tree. Unlike most volumes, this one was written hundreds of years ago, when the idea of long and explanatory titles was not around.

You open the book and begin to read.

_"The Ashen Tree_

_There once was a male and a female, who were strong and powerful matesprits. The two craved descendants, but the Mother Grub never provided._

_One day in the later dark seasons, the female is slicing a grubfruit 'neath an ashen tree. She accidentally cuts her finger, and olive blood spilt into the snow. "Oh," she sighed heavily, staring at the blood before her. "If only I had a descendant as grey as slate and pale as snow."_

_A few wipes passed. Then, given to the couple, was their child, a male, with the horns of the female and very healthy, dark grey skin. The female cried with joy, then in her elation, she perished. Her grieving matesprit buried her body underneath the branches of the ashen tree, and named the grub Daimen._

_The male later reentered matespritship, with another female. They had a female wriggler named Marlen together. However, the female was jealous of her step-grub, as she wanted her true grub to inherit everything instead of him._

_The female had an idea, and came up with a plan from it, for the half-child had higher blood than her and killing him would get her culled. She brang her descendants up to the highest floor, and there was a metal chest. She took a grubfruit from the chest, and gives it kindly to her girl. The wriggler left, and the boy came forth. But when he reached in for a grubfruit, the female slammed it shut, and the head of the male joined the fruits._

_She took the head and body of the descendant, and placed them outside, so that he leaned against the hive. She tied a white cloth around his neck, so the tear could not be seen. Lastly, she had the boy hold his grubfruit._

_The girl found him, and attempted to speak with the boy. When he dod not reply, she went to her ancestor. "Custodian," she said. "Diamen is deathly white, and he is ignoring me."_

_"Go back to him," said the female. "And if he does not listen to you, punch him in the listening nubs." So she went back, and when she hit him, the head fell off, as was to be expected. The girl was horrified, and to ease her worries of the guilt, her ancestor chopped his body into pieces, and made a meal of him._

_When the male came back to the hive, he asked where Daimen was. His matesprit replied that he had gone to see some relatives. The trolls sat down to eat. The male loved the meal, while his half-youngling watched in horror. The next day, she took his bones in a silken scarf, and buried them 'neath the ashen tree. A flapbeast flew out of the tree, and the girl was comforted._

_The bird flew to the hive of a goldsmith, and began to sing: "My caretaker, she killed me, my ancestor, he ate me, my sister Marlen, gathered all my bones, tied them to a silken scarf, laid them neath the ashen tree, chirp chirp, what a beautiful flapbeast I am."_

_The goldsmith was delighted, and demanded the flapbeast sing its song again. The beast complied, in exchange for a golden chain._

_The beast flew to the hive of a shoemaker, and sings it's song. This time, the bird gained a pair of bright burgundy shoes for its song. And once more, in front of a mill, the beast gained a millstone._

_The flapbeast flies back to the ashen tree. It sings the beautiful song: "My caretaker, she killed me, my ancestor, he ate me, my sister Marlen, gathered all my bones, tied them to a silken scarf, laid them neath the ashen tree, chirp chirp, what a beautiful flapbeast I am."_

_The male emerges from the hive, and the flapbeast gives him the golden chain. The beast sang her song once more, and Marlen emerges. It gave her the burgundy shoes to her. One last time, and the female emerged. And the final gift of the millstone was dropped upon her head, crushing her to death._

_From behind the ancestor and Marlen, the hive bursted into flames. Then a figure emerges, and to the surprise of the trolls, it was a smiling and happy Daimen. The three trolls embraced, and they sat at the burned table to eat."_

You smile as you finish the story. The bad woman received justice, and the family was whole. It really made you very happy when you were younger, but it was difficult for your lusus to explain how trolls were once taken care of by other trolls. You managed to get it eventually, and she told you that you were a very bright grub.

Speaking of your lusus, the feather-hooded snake you call you custodian slides into the block. She takes one look at your soaked hoodie and rushes to comfort you. In a matter of seconds you are surrounded by warm and comfortable scales, with a concerned reptilian face hissing at you. You give her a smile and some cheek scratches as a thanks. The concern transforms into contentment, and you both fall asleep in each other's embrace.

Naerys: Be someone else.

You're now back to being Vallem, and you're currently installing SGRUB on your computer. You watch as the strange changing green-thingy spins around as the loading bar progresses forward. It's pretty boring just sitting here. And then, it finishes. Your screen goes black, and doesn't come back online. You stare incredulously at your computer for a moment, and then notice your Trollian tab blinking. You click on it, bringing up your messages with WI.

WI: _Alright, everiething is working as intended!_

MA: ))What tzhe hell are you tzalking about, my zcreen juzt went completely black and won't come back online!

WI: _That's the point!_

MA: ))...what.

WI: _Iea, there are two main roles in this game. The Server Plaier, and the Client. I am ieour Server Plaier, and ieou are the Client. Mie job is to help ieou through the game until ieou become independent. In return, ieou'll help someone else in our session, and someone will help me._

MA: ))Zo tzhen, how do we begin?

WI: _First things first, I need to start altering ieour environment so I can place down objects._

WI: _My screen is currentlie displaieing ieour room, so I think if I start clicking around something will happen._

WI: _Let's see here..._

You're interrupted from the conversation by loud noises behind you. You turn around toWHY IS YOUR RECUPERACOON FLOATING.

WI: _Heie, this is just like Sims 4!_

MA: ))Wh-

MA: ))How-

MA: ))Are YOU tzhe one doing tzhat?!

WI: _Who else would it be?_

WI: _Aniewaie, I'm going to start moving some things around so we can have some space._

Anything that was previously in the middle of the block is quickly moved, leaving several walls and the center of the room open for usage. A strange rectangular machine is placed against your wall, and a square machine with a platform and a robo-arm settles down nicely in the center of the block. In an open corner, a square-shaped container with a closed tube in the top appears.

Lastly, a small card with punched rectangles pops into existence on your lap. Nothing more appears out of thin air, so you turn back to the computer.

MA: ))Iz tzhat everytzhing?

WI: _Ies. Now it's just a matter of using all of these machines properlie._

WI: _The machine in the center of your block is the ALCHEMITER. Ieou will be using that later as the game's crafting siestem._

WI: _Next, the rectangular machine along ieour wall is the TOTEM LATHE. Ieou will also use that later as part of the game's crafting siestem._

WI: _The square thing in the corner is the CRUXTRUDER. It makes ieour KERNELSPRITE and some CRUXITE DOWElS. Both of which are essential to the game._

WI: _And lastlie, the PRE-PUNCHED CARD is ieour ticket to entering the game._

MA: ))Huh. I have no idea what any of tzhat meanz right now, but I'll probably figure it out az we go along.

WI: _I'll work ieou through the process right now._

WI: _First, go to the Cruxtruder. Use something heavie on that lid, and crack it open like a soda can._

Vallem: Open the Cruxtruder.

You carefully place the Pre-Punched Card down on your computer's desk, then head over to the Cruxtruder. You think of something heavy you have in your possession. Neither of your Strife Specibi will work here, as they are both ranged weapons. As you think, you don't notice the auditorium seat that has been clearly ripped from the ground above your head until it comes crashing down on the machine.

A bright flash of light occurs. When you open your eyes again, the lid is off and a strange flashing ball of light is staring you in the face. Your yelp with surprise, falling on your ass and scooting away. The ball remains motionless.

Nervously, you eye the ball. It does absolutely nothing, so you deem it safe to return to your computer.

MA: ))What tzhe hell iz tzhat.

WI: _It's that Kernelsprite I mentioned. It can be prototieped with anie object, and it will gain the qualities of that object. Objects can be literallie aniething, even IEOU if ieou're not careful._

MA: ))Noted.

WI: _Ieou'll want to prototiepe it as quickie as possible, if that countdown on the Cruxtruder is aniething to go bie._

Sure enough, a countdown is slowly ticking down on the machine. Ten minutes and thirty seconds, to be precise. A slight sense of worry begins to fill you. You'll need to find something to prototype it with.

MA: ))Hey, zo why do I need to do tzhis prototyping?

WI: _The Kernelsprite serves as ieour guide and tutorial once ieou enter the game, and what ieou prototiepe it with affects how the sprite will act and how it will guide ieou._

Well, that solves that problem. You'll pair it with your lusus, who you have named Tekeat. He's a bumblebird male, so he serves the bumblebird queen. You also serve the queen, for it was the queen who was generous enough to move the hive to your forest after Tekeat bonded with you. Returning the favor for allowing you to survive is the least you could do.

Vallem: Head outside.

You are almost out the door leading outside when you hear a massive crash from the auditorium.

Vallem: Investigate the crash.

You burst onto the auditorium balcony, only to see the Bumblebird Queen has broken through the glass dome above the stands. A swarm of bumblebirds crowd around her, tending to any wounds she may have gained with the action. A particular bumblebird zips up to you, and you easily identify it as your lusus. He's only about the size of your hand, so you hold your hand out for him to land on. From the speed and sounds of his buzzes and hums, it appears that he is very worried.

You set him on the ground, and he begins doing the strange communication dance for which bumblebirds are known. You've been around him long enough to understand some things, and you pick a few words: "danger," "fire," "rock," and "escape" are the main ones. You quickly deduce that the queen saw danger in fire and rocks, and sought to escape into the auditorium.

Now you're a bit worried about the fire and the rocks. You incline your head upwards and sniff the air. You don't smell any smoke. But you do see something through the glass dome. A bright light in the sky, and it ain't one of the moons. You squint, trying to make the object come into focus.

It's a meteor.

And it's heading right for you.

Vallem: Have a mental breakdown.

You collapse to the floor and start screaming like a wriggler.

Vallem: Be someone else.

You are now someone else. You observe a young troll as he adjusts a pair of combat goggles, increasing the zoom and how far he can observe. He puts his eye into the scope of a rifle, targeting the rust-colored orb of a massive cluckenrex. His aim steadies. A shot echoes in the snowy mountains. A sharp screech, and the beast falls. A rustblood tries to run, and he too falls with a hole through his skull.

You smile, large fangs jutting out from your bottom lip. Your home has been defended once again.

Your name is XORVEK DASICH. You are a WAR MACHINE, born and raised to FIGHT AND KILL. And you'd be dead if you weren't really good at it. You prefer the use of your MILITARY GRADE ANTI-MATERIAL RIFLE, which you stole from a visiting IMPERIAL WARSHIP. You've also been diagnosed with a minor case of INSANITY, which embrace as part of your PERSONALITY.

You only really have a few main INTERESTS: the HISTORY OF WARFARE, MODERN WEAPONRY, and THE CONDESCE. Her Imperial Condescension has served as a role model to you, inspiring you to get better and better. Your ULTIMATE DREAM is to be the TOP GENERAL in the ALTERNIAN MILITARY.

Your online name is benevolentNightmare, and you speak in a way THAT IS KIN-A IMPE-E- BY Y-UR EXTREME UN-ERBITE.

What will you do?

Xorvek: Loot the corpses.

You leap off of your craggy ledge, your massive coat flying out behind you. You roll when you hit the ground in order to cushion the blow, then begin a light jog. You quickly reach the newly-made corpses this way. The cluckenrex has a saddle, which you search and find TEN (10) CANS OF BRAND-NAME DIETARY SUPPLEMENTS. Tasteless, slimy mush that is extremely useful in survival, because of its high level of nutrients. Essentially, it's perfect for you.

After storing the cans in your satchel, you move on to the body of the troll. You feel a twinge of guilt, so you kneel before the body and whisper a quick apology, as well as a blessing for good outcomes in whatever afterlife there is. Then, you begin to loot. You find ONE (1) PAIR OF SNOW GOGGLES, ONE (1) COMBAT DAGGER, and ONE (1) LEATHER-BOUND JOURNAL.

Xorvek: Read the journal.

You open the journal and begin to read. Journals are a valuable find up here, as TV reception is limited, and news is scarce. Therefore, you need all the news you can get. At least you get decent internet for your video games.

The journal doesn't tell you much, besides what you already knew. The only new thing is an extremely recent entry about a new game, which is sweeping the planet. It quickly piques your interest, as you want in on anything that's popular and a game.

Xorvek: Describe yourself.

Alright, fine. You, like the body beneath you, are a rustblood. Your sign is Arist. You wear it on your shirt, displayed below your black jacket. The jacket is massive, reaching down to your knees, with a collar that partially obscures your face. You also like to wear a pair of military-grade goggles, which not only give you enhanced vision, but shield your eyes from the blizzards and snow of the mountains.

For your physical body, your hair is based in somewhat curly nests. Your horns are downward facing, emerging from the sides of your head and then curling upward on the sides of your face, creating a little crown of sorts. You have a massive underbite. Your lower canines are huge to boot, so you somewhat resemble a human "orc" (though you have no idea what that is). Finally, you stand at a height of five feet and seven inches tall and you are six and a half sweeps old.

Xorvek: Go back to your hive and download the game.

Fucking gladly! You stand up from the body, put your fingers to your lips, and let out a high-pitched whistle. It echoes through the mountains, and a howl echoes back.

Then, from between two peaks, your lusus: Fenris the quillwolf. A beast with a canine body and wings made of sharp spines, which can be launched. Some of the hairs on his back are also spines, which is why you need the saddle.

Fenris lands, and you give him some scratches behind his ears. He pants happily and gives you an excited lick on your cheek, leaving your face covered in saliva. You wipe it off in disgust, then mount up and fly off into the mountains.

Xorvek: Be someone else.

Instead of going back to Vallem, you encounter yet another new face. A rugged face. With a scar over her eye. Pretty awesome. I'm going to give you a chance to name her properly, so don't fuck it up.

Enter Name: Phonix Kilora.

Good, you learned your lesson. Anyway, your name is PHONIX KILORA. You're a BRONZEBLOOD, and you're PROUD OF IT. In your hive, there is NO SUPERIOR CASTE, nor should one feel shame FOR WHO THEY ARE. That's what you believe anyway, and it's saddening that no one else feels that way. You aren't afraid to FIGHT BACK in minor ways, like destroying some shit that belonged to some HIGHBLOODS. You almost NEVER GIVE UP, and you believe that you can FIX THE HEMOSPECTRUM.

You love ASTRONOMY AND THE STARS, for you find them really pretty and inspiring. You hope to be an IMPERIAL CARTOGRAPHER, mapping NEW SYSTEMS as the Empire conquers them. You also want to explore the PLANETS you conquer, learning about the CIVILIZATIONS on them before they are inevitably CULLED. You also have an interest in WOODCARVING, and your hive is decorated with some of your BEST WORKS. Your online name is interstellarXenologist and you speak in a way *th*t connects you with the st*rs*

What will you do?

Phonix: Describe yourself.

As previously mentioned, you are a bronzeblood. However, living as a worker on some highblood's plantation forced you to wear specific things. You wear a pair of black overalls, your sign emblazoned on them. You also wear a plaid shirt underneath that, easily giving you the farm girl look. You also wear some heavy-duty boots, as you really don't like mud on your feet.

You keep your hair in a large braid, which reaches down to your knees. You don't allow any stray locks to obscure your face, as you kinda need that for seeing shit. Speaking of your face, your right eye has a massive scar over it, which you gained after single-handedly slaying a rampaging Lusus, saving countless lives and your job. You were lucky you didn't lose the eye. Your horns resemble that of a night-screechbeast, yet they are a bit more round. You stand at a height of six feet tall and you are a little under six sweeps old.

Phonix: Look around.

You look around the respiteblock. Lucky for you, today's one of the few days off you're allowed a year, so you're currently just relaxing in your hive. You're sitting in a comfy splaysac, and just taking the time to relax your overworked and exhausted muscles. There's your clunky computer in the corner, your recuperacoon, some shelves with either a few books or some of your carvings, and a chest of your belongings.

Phonix: Check notifications.

You get up off the splaysac and drop yourself into the computer chair. You log on mighty quick and find that you do indeed have a notification from one of your friends. You quickly decide to answer.

adroitlyInsidious[AI] has begun trolling interstellarXenologist[IX].

AI: allright gt th fuck up

AI: i know today's your brak day

AI: thrfor

AI: w actualllly do somthing fun, instad of you dnying m ovr and ovr

AI: and no, you dont have a choic

IX: *nice to see you too*

AI: shut up and llistn

IX: *i'm c*lling your bluff*

AI: not today sistr

AI: thrs this gam that got supr popullar in llik two hours

AI: vryons playing it

AI: and its an excus to gt you off your workahollic ass

IX: *l*st i checked my computer can't run shit*

AI: nop, this game rquirs llik zro mmory

AI: som trolllls ancint husktop managd to run it no swat

AI: you cant fight this bronz

AI: just fucking give in

IX: *fucking d*mnit*

IX: *fine i'll pl*y the g*me*

IX: *wh*t's it c*lled*

AI: sgrub

IX: *well th*t's very cre*tive*

AI: stfu it llooks good

AI: and dont think i wont know if you downlloaded it or not

AI: illll be waiting pallmat

adriotlyInsidious has ceased trolling interstellarXenologist.

You smile at your moirail's antics. She's a bit rough around the edges, but she's a very kind and genuine person on the inside. You are a bit of a workaholic, and she's right that you need to loosen up. Might as well take the edge of by playing a game with friends.

You switch tabs, search the game, and click the download button.

Phonix: Be Vallem.

You are now Vallem. You have recovered from your meltdown, and are now working anxiously against the ticking clock. Specifically, you're trying to figure out how the Kernelsprite works. So far it's just sat there. Tekeat is sitting on your shoulder, curiously observing the orb.

"I wonder if tzhere'z an interfaze for the prototyping…" you wonder aloud. Tekeat takes to the air, zipping around the orb with wide-eyed wonder. He descends towards the orb, and pecks it curiously.

Another flash of light, and you cover your eyes. When you can open them once more, you see the Kernelsprite has changed. It now has the face of Tekeat emblazoned on it, a feathery humbeast beak facing downward while his compound eyes stare endlessly. It gives off some sort of humming-buzz, as though it is attempting to communicate.

Step one, prototype the sprite: check. Next step, save your ass from impending doom.

You hop back on the computer, to find a list of instructions waiting on you.

WI: _Turn the wheel on the Cruxtruder. Ieou'll recieve some Cruxite Dowels._

WI: _Then, go to the Totem Lathe, plug the Punched Card into the slot, and insert a dowel._

WI: _The dowel will be carved._

WI: _Finallie, take the newlie-made totem to the Alchemiter. Place the totem on the pad near the robo-arm, and it will make something that must be interacted with in some waie._

WI: _I have to go now, I need to make sure I don't die._

wildernessIntrepid has ceased trolling melodicApostle.

You gather your courage, and begin the checklist. A dowel given. A card inserted, and a totem carved. Lastly, an item is made: a strange, cerulean page of sheet music, called "[S] Vallem: Enter."

The name of the piece freaks you out a little bit, but don't overreact like you want to. You're too terrified of the countdown being at forty seconds.

You rush to the balcony, and notice the meteor rapidly gaining size and definition. You fly back into your respiteblock, grab your violin, and prop the bit of music up on a stand.

And you begin to play. It's a fast-paced, anxious song that inflames your nerves like fire. You want to speed up the song, but you don't know what affects it will have on whatever is supposed to happen. You force yourself to stay in time, following the rhythm carefully.

What feels like an eternity passes. Your bow slides across the strings for the final note, as your hive lights up with bright orange light, with the meteor falling upon the roof.

Then blackness.

You glance up. Nothing seems to have happened. But you're not dead, so that's good. You keep your instrument in hand, and slowly glance outside your window.

The violin and the bow fall from your hands.

Outside, a completely different environment stares back at you. The hive stands upon a large stone brick platform, with the surrounding trees and grass taken along. Beyond the hive, an endless maze of castle walls, statues, and architecture

A name instantly comes to the forefront of your mind: The Land of Twilight and Bastions.

You sigh, and a smile spreads across your face. A feeling manifests inside your chest. You've never really felt it before, which is what makes it so strange.

It's the feeling of belonging.

You're finally home.

Vallem: Be Xorvek.

You are now Xorvek. You're staring into the distance, a new and unfamiliar one. Bright red and dusty canyons extend into the distance, the scars of a war evident all around. Broken spears, discarded shields, bones of humanoid creatures. Your bunker-hive stands behind you, now embedded in a new chunk of rock.

You grasp your rifle tighter.

Your destiny is here.

The Land of Crags and Battle agrees.

Xorvek: Be Naerys.

You are now Naerys. You cautiously peek out from behind the door frame. Why did you ever join that random troll's game-recruitment thing? You barely even care about games, and you have no friends, so now you've been transported to some different dimension with a bunch of people you don't know!

You feel the one emotion you fear most coming on quickly.

But now is not the time for that.

You steel your heart with the strongest emotions you have: your anger towards your ex-tormentors.

You walk through the door.

And the Land of Towers and Firestorms confronts you.

Naerys: Be Phonix.

You are now Phonix. You're climbing down a massive chain, as your hive was, for some reason, deposited upon a massive steel structure. The dark fog unnerves you slightly, but you manage to hit the ground with little to no trouble.

Then, out of the mist: black, sludge-y shapes with the features of your lusus: four eyes, and a chitterbeast tail. This whole thing is starting to really put you on your guard.

The figures lunge. You draw your kite shield from your Strife Deck, and ready yourself to fight.

Claws scrape against metal.

The Land of Chains and Smog calls your name.

Phonix: Be Vallem.

You've stepped onto your outdoor balcony, which extended into the forest for a while until it was abruptly cut off by the hive's movement. The crumbling remains of the bridge are below your feet, but you're not paying attention to that.

The wind blows through your hair, and lightly touches the maze of stone below. A familiar scent fills your nose, the scent of fresh air when it has been there untouched for countless ages.

It is your eighth wriggling day, and as with all seven preceding it, something had felt like it's missing from your life. The game that has nearly killed you and yet saved you from harm is only the latest deck of cards that the mistress known as the Universe has dealt you. Her intelligence eludes you at every turn. Her cruelty knows bounds which not even the Condesce can understand, yet none can truly grasp her compassion. We can only see a reflection, like a violet moon in the light of your glasses.

The faint ring of windchimes leaves a pleasant melody in your ear.

You have a feeling that this is going to be much more than you ever imagined.

* * *

**PLEASE READ**

**Hello everyone! This is GLITCHSTUCK, a fanfic based approximately fourteen sweeps (30.3 Years) after the events of Hivebent, in a universe where the events of Hivebent never took place. The original twelve have definitely left their mark, but they are not the main characters. Instead, a different twelve of my own making are here.**

**Throughout the events of this story, I will be taking command suggestions for the characters, which might be placed at random intervals, but most likely will get featured at one point or another. As for my update schedule, I will be taking my time with each chapter, in order to guarantee the best story possible, so the schedule will be very inconsistent. Don't be afraid to give me some criticism either, as I use each tidbit to improve my writing.**

**Thank you for checking out GLITCHSTUCK, and I look forward to your comments.**

**-RavensofOdin**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Intermission 1: The Watchtrolls**


	2. Intermission 1

**INTERMISSION 1: Strange Readings**

_Hours in the future..._

Your name is ELGEZI AASHIO. You are a COMMANDER in the IMPERIAL MILITARY, which means you command an IMPERIAL WARSHIP. Your ship is the PULVERIZER, given one of the most important of any job in the fleet: keep watch on the HOMEWORLD, and RELAY INFORMATION TO FLEET COMMAND.

You originally thought this job would be very interesting, and you'd be reporting information all the time. Instead, there has been jacksquat to report. There was a false alarm about a mutant burgundy about twenty sweeps ago, but other than that, nothing. Just the standard gossip of Alternia.

Until now.

You're currently sitting in a very tense board meeting. Subordinates are shouting all around, debating on what the hell to do. The topic of discussion is by far the biggest event to happen on Alternia in thousands of sweeps: energy signiatures, popping up all over the planet. Surrounding it, even.

Your crew had kept careful watch for hours, observing what was happening.

And then it happened.

Portals, too many to count. And from them emerged meteors, which started in the thousands. Then it was tens of thousands. And then hundreds of thousands. Millions, tens of millions.

You wished you could have gone down to rescue the wrigglers and grubs, maybe even the Mother Grub. But the risk of being blasted to the Dark Carnival and back was too great. But it's all over now. All that remains is a barren, lifeless planet.

You've made the reports. It will reach Fleet Command in a wipe. But for now, you sit and listen in the meeting, completely at a loss for what to do.

It's at that moment that an oliveblood ensign bursts in, panting heavily. "There's still life on Alternia!" he shouts. All activity and argument ceases. Slowly, you and the crew turn to the ensign. Now's your time to take action, you decide.

What will you do?

Elgezi: End the meeting, and get to the bridge.

"This meeting is now adjourned!" you shout. You quickly stand up from your seat, and push past the ensign on your way back to the bridge. You can hear the chaos ensuing behind you, but you do not care. You have much more important matters, and they lie where you are going.

You reach the bridge about the same time that the rest of the meeting attendants catch up to you. "Can anyone tell me why the fuck there's still life on Alternia?!" you boom, and the loyal faces of your crew stare back. Eventually, one of the technicians sitting at a command terminal speaks up. "We had been running the life scans, as requested. Just like the other times, we found nothing."

"Then why did some idiot come rushing in to disturb my meeting?!" you shout, and the technician flinches. Eventually, he regains his composure. "We thought we were running the scans too big, so we tried to narrow the scans down to small sections of the planet. Once we had done that, we discovered that the meteor showers must have been very light on the polar regions, for we picked up the vital signs of about ten thousand trolls."

You allow yourself a small smile. This is the best news you've heard all day. "How much capacity for trolls do we have on this vessel?" You ask. The technician runs the calculations. "We only have room for around two hundred on normal circumstances, as in, giving each troll an ample amount of living space. However, if we conserve the space carefully, then we can hold approximately three thousand more individuals." You think for a moment. "Are we talking adults or wrigglers? Remember, this is a planet for children." The technician seems flustered, and then re-runs the calculations.

"With those prerequisites in mind, we can double the storage capacity." You feel much more satisfied with the number. "What about our pocket storage? Is it possible to fit any more if we use those?" you ask. The technician shakes his head. "Most of those pockets are already filled with other things, some essential."

"What parts are there? Essential and non-essential."

"We keep our backup water supply in there, for starters. We also have munitions, food, medical supplies, and various repair items."

"Dump the water and munitions. We won't be needing our weapons anymore. And for the water, we are going to the poles, where there still should be some snow."

The technicians do some manipulating.

"It's done, Commander."

"How much room does that give us?"

"More than enough to fit the remaining four thousand."

"Perfect. Now give me a voice-amplifier. I need to make a message loud enough for the whole planet to hear."

A microphone emerges from the Captain's panel, and you take it from its stand. "Attention, all remaining trolls of Alternia," you begin. "My name is Commander Aashio, captain of The Pulverizer. We were unable to assist during the meteor storm, but we are here to rescue any remaining survivors. If you can, please get the northward and southward poles, as we have plenty of space to accommodate everyone. We will initiate the rescue in three days time. Be there, or get left behind." You set down the microphone.

Elgezi: Get this show on the road.

"Alright, land in the closest city! We need to begin scavenging enough food to feed ten thousand more trolls, so let's get a move on!"

The engines rumble to life after so long dormant in the atmosphere, and the barren homeworld grows bigger in the viewing window. It's time to finally prove your worth. It's time to become the most heroic troll in the history of your race.

It's time for a new beginning.


	3. Chapter 2: Part 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Homestuck, only my own characters based in Andrew Hussie's universe.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Strong Emotions, Part 1**

You watch from the grassy fields as flashes of light occur on the neighboring planets. You take it to mean that more trolls have entered the game. WI must have found some more players. The others haven't flashed yet, but you assume they'll do so soon.

Despite your original apprehensions about meeting new people, you start to feel a bit of excitement flare up in your chest. You can't wait to meet these new trolls, not to mention you'll be meeting WI in person for the first time! You should probably ask her name. You just hope that everything will turn out splendidly.

Vallem: Count the number of planets.

You squint as you stare into the strange, starless sky. The blue and orange colors don't really help you make out some of them, but you see nine other planets. If you include your own, that makes ten. You're pretty sure there are probably a couple more planets behind the massive blue ball in the sky, but you can't see them. You'll probably figure it out eventually.

You probably shouldn't go farther from your hive than you are now, lest you accidentally get lost. You look over your shoulder, and see the large structure sitting peacefully upon a hill. You squint, and you think you can see the shimmering white coat of the Bumblebird Queen inside the auditorium.

Vallem: Inhale.

You inhale deeply, and the smell of age and stone infiltrates your nose. It makes you feel calm, and peaceful. It almost scares you, as nothing has been able to make you calm down like this place has. Playing this game was really good for you.

Vallem: Head back inside.

You decide to go back to your hive. The walls welcome you back inside, and you quickly proceed back up to your respiteblock.

Huh, it appears you got some notifications while you were away. Might as well check what's up.

wildernessIntrepid[WI] has created a group memo.

WI has named the memo "Meet and Greet."

WI has annexed benevolentNightmare [BN] into the conversation.

WI has annexed interstellarXenologist [IX] into the conversation.

WI has annexed valiantBibliognost [VB] into the conversation.

WI has annexed sanctifiedMercenary [SM] into the conversation.

WI has annexed adroitlyInsidious [AI] into the conversation.

WI has annexed fulfillingQuadrant [FQ] into the conversation.

WI has annexed melodicApostle[MA] into the conversation.

WI has annexed dramaticfixture [DF] into the conversation.

WI has annexed winsomeSpectre [WS] into the conversation.

WI has annexed sharpenedAntithesis [SA] into the conversation.

WI has annexed decietfulAquatic [DA] into the conversation.

WI: _Okaie, listen up! On this memo I have added anie trolls who have joined our session and are plaieing with us._

WI: _For the record, I am the one who put out the recruitment thingiemabob._

WI: _Ieou can call me Firrin._

FQ: #its_nice_to_meet_you_firrin!

FQ: #my_name_is_tazend!

BN: CALL ME X-RVEK.

VB: ~hello...i'm n4erys.~

IX: *howdy everyone*

IX: *my n*me is phonix*

DA: Hell0 dar1ngs! The name 1s Jer1ax Va1ern

BN: WAIT H-L- THE FUCKING PH-NE!

BN: Y-U'RE N-T SERI-SLY SAYING THAT Y-U'RE THE FUCKING HEIR TO THE THR-NE!

DA: The 0ne and 0nly!

BN: H-LY SHIT.

BN: H-W IN THE C-N-ESCE'S NAME -I- I GET T- MEET THE HEIRESS APPARENT?!

DA: M0st l1kely pure chance.

DF: (: ALRIGHT, BREAK YAWUR FLUSSHED FLIRTING THE FUCK UP. IT'S NASSTY. ):

DA: :0

DA: 1'm a fusch1a bl00d, h0w dare y0u speak t0 me that way!

DF: (: WHAW GIVESS A FUCK. NAWT ME, THAT'SS FAWR SURE. ):

DF: (: THE NAME ISS RAUVAR. DAWN'T FAWRGET IT. ):

WI: _Ooooookaie, calm down everieone. Anieone else want to saie something?_

MA: ))Zure, why not. My name iz Vallem Ammena. Nize to meet all of you.

MA: ))Alzo, haz anyone elze been tranzported to zome ztrange planet becauze of tzhis game?

WI: _I have. Mie mind is telling me it's called the Land of Crystals and Dungeons.

MA: ))Land of Twilight and Bastille.

VB: ~i'm in the l4nd of towers 4nd firestorms.~

BN: LAN- -F CRAGS AN- BATTLE F-R ME.

IX: *i'm now * citizen of the l*nd of ch*ins *nd smog*

AI: and i'v joined th ranks of th lland of neon and chaos

AI: th nam is sordak

AI: "gedema" sordak

WI: _It's nice to meet all of ieou! I think we're only missing a few trolls now._

WI: _I think it's onlie the violet blood, the purpleblood and, apparentlie, a lime._

DA: A WHAT?!

BN: A WHAT?!

DA: Hm! 1 l1ke you, rust bl00d.

DA: Off-t0pic, h0wever. H0w 1n the C0ndesce's name 1s there a l1mebl00d, and better yet, h0w 1s 1t AL1VE?!

BN: I'M PRETTY CURI-US AS WELL.

SM: ((...hey! ...i'm a she... not an "it"...))

DA: 0h my fuck.

SM: ((...get used to it.))

SM: ((um... you can call me khepri... i guess...))

BN: G- JUMP IN A CULLING PIT.

DA: N0w, n0w, my rust-bl00ded fr1end. Let's n0t be s0 hasty to judge and to assume.

DA: She c0uld pr0ve as harmless as a squeakbeast, f0r all we kn0w of her.

SM: ((...i'm right here, you know...))

DA: R1ght, 1 ap0l0g1ze M1ss Khepr1. That was qu1te rude of me.

SM: ((...oh... thanks, i guess...))

DA: Y0u're qu1te welc0me!

DF: (: WAWULD YAWU TWAW SSHUT THE FUCK UP? THANKSS. ):

VB: ~um...m4ybe you shouldn't be bossing people around?~

DF: (: I DAWN'T GIVE ANY SAWRT WAOF FUCK, YAWU LAWW-BLEWD SLUT! ):

BN: !

MA: )) :0

DA: 0h hell n0!

FQ: #too_fucking_far

AI: okay i'm trribll but that was vn wors than i vr want to be.

IX: **greed*

IX: *not on the being terrible p*rt*

IX: *but how that is worse th*n i ever w*nt to be*

valiantBibliognost [VB] has withdrawn from "Meet and Greet."

MA: ))OKAY, WHAT TZHE FUCK IZ WRONG WITH YOU.

DF: (: NAWTHING ISS WRAWNG WITH ME. BETTER QUESSTIAWN, WHAT IS WRAWNG WITH YAWU? ):

DF: (: I WASS CALLING IT ASS I SSAW IT, AND THAT'SS WHAT SSHE CLEARLY ISS.

WI: _Okaie, not dealing with ieour bullshit aniemore!_

wildernessIntrepid [WI] has silenced dramaticFixture [DF] from responding to the memo.

FQ: #thank_the_condesce

FQ: #or_dont

FQ: #because_she_started_the_whole_hatred_against_lowbloods_thing

MA: ))Fuck her, honeztly.

BN: -N'T -ISRESPECT THE EMPRESS!

BN: SHE HAS ENSURE- PR-SPERITY AM-NG THE TR-LLKIN-!

SM: ((...at least.. she did at one point...))

SM: ((...seeing as the entire planet is being riddled with meteors...))

DA: What?!

DA: When d1d th1s happen?!

DA: Actua11y, that's n0t 1mp0rtant. What are we g01ng t0 d0 ab0ut the surv1val 0f 0ur spec1es?!

AI: th onlly thing w can do, which is to rscu as many trolllls as w can bfor w scap to our rspectiv plants

AI: *planets

AI: m and my boss did that, so i thought i'd giv th ida to othrs

MA: ))Tzhat zoundz good. Zo, we have to get Jeriax, Tazend, Khepri, tzhe violet, tzhe purple, and Rauvar into tzhe game. Tzhough we all know tzhe final one will not be doing any of tzhat.

DA: 1'm n0t sure h0w much help 1 can be, see1ng as 1 l1ve underwater.

WI: _Do ieou have some sort of air-filled transportation into ieour hive?_

DA: 1 d0n't th1nk so. 1 d0 have c0ntr0l 0ver a small army 0f dr0nes, h0wever.

DA: 1 can send them 0ut t0 ass1st other tr0lls 1nto gett1ng t0 us.

IX: *th*t sounds perfect*

IX: *we should try *nd get the *ddresses of the untr*nsported trolls*

FQ: #do_it_over_a_dm_just_in_case.

FQ: #we_may_be_going_to_another_dimension_soon

FQ: #but_we_do_have_private_lives.

BN: I AGREE WITH THAT VERY PERS-NALLY.

BN: IN THE MEANWHILE, US TRANSP-RTE- F-LK NEE- T- KEEP AN EYE -UT F-R WHEN THE -THERS ARE READY.

SM: ((...the plan sounds good to me...))

SM: ((...let's do it.))

WI: _Alright, we have a purpose and a task. Is everieone readie?_

DA: Yep! :)

IX: *completely*

SM: ((...yes.))

BN: MY HAN- IS -N THE M-USE.

FQ: #any_time!

AI: llt's fucking do this allrady.

MA: ))I am ready.

WI: _Then let's get going!_

wildernessIntrepid [WI] has closed the memo.

You smile, a surge of energy and determination filling you to the brim. You bring up SGRUB once again, and this time, connect to the role of Server Player. Seconds later, a username appears in the Client spot: dramaticFixture.

Vallem: Die inside.

You groan and slam you head onto the station.

Okay, it's time for someone else. You are now faced with a very tired-looking troll girl, staring out into the bright streets of a bustling city. And no, you cannot name her, for she has already been mentioned and named in a conversation which we have seen mere moments before.

Your name is KHEPRI APHROS. The only important feature about you is that you are LIMEBLOOD, which makes you possibly THE MOST WANTED FIGURE ON ALTERNIA. Well, with the exception of THE SUFFERER'S DESCENDANT. He's your LEADER, specifically the leader of the SIGNLESS' FOLLOWERS. No one knows His real name, and you hope it stays that way, for the sake of keeping the movement secretive.

You are one His most trusted members, seeing as you're also a CULL ON SIGHT INDIVIDUAL. You're not supposed to exist. And yet, you do, by thriving in the SHADOWS. You don't like your life, but you make it work with your LIMEBLOOD POWERS, which consists of EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION and MEMORY ALTERING. Very useful for someone living in the shadows.

You don't have many interests besides STAYING ALIVE and KILLING THE CONDESCE. However, you do CALLIGRAPHY AND DRAWING in your spare time. And you're very good at it, which is why you're the OFFICIAL POSTER-MAKER. You carefully plan the posters, and the rest of the organization spreads them across Alternia. Essentially, you are one of the most important people in the organization. Propaganda is key.

Your online name is sanctifiedMercenary, and you speak in a way ((...which does well not to draw attention...))

What will you do?

Khepri: Describe yourself.

As previously mentioned, you are a Limeblood with all the same powers of your caste. Most of the time, you wear a cloak around you as to conceal your eyes, which, as trolls age, begin to shirt from a pale grey to their blood color. Yours have already finished the transformation, much to your displeasure. Beneath that, you wear a heavy sweater with your practically ancient sign, Camino, on it. You also like to wear some sneakers, a pair of very torn-up grey jeans, and your signature lime scarf.

As for your physical appearance, you keep your hair cut short, as not to serve as a hindrance on any missions. Your horns move upward, then jut inward in a sideways parabola curve, and then sharpens to a point at the end of the parabola. Essentially, your horns look like sideways hooks. You stand at a height of five feet and six inches, and you are a little over seven sweeps old.

Khepri: Observe surroundings.

You're currently hiding in a dark alleyway, while various young trolls happily go about their days. You're a young troll as well, but that's not important. What is important is the drones that quickly and efficiently fly through the city streets. You've kept a very careful eye on the patrolling patterns, and you've deduced that on this particular street, the drones pass twice per minute. Thirty second intervals. You'll have that much time to get to the next alley while also trying to avoid the public eye.

Your eyes narrow.

Wait for it…

A drone zooms by.

Now.

Khepri: Move.

You raise your hand from your dark cloak, exposing a strange gadget on your wrist. A grappling hook launches out, which tethers to a street light. It pulls you upward and forward, high above the pedestrians below. Before you reach the tether, you release, launching you across the street. You quickly curl into a ball before you land, rolling into the alley without casualty.

You smirk with you success. You're almost to the city center, where you can post the final message. The true scale of the danger hasn't been revealed, and you need to get it out. Thus, after your message, you paired up with Phonix and got ready to leave. Now, all you need to do is get a warning out.

In your pocket is a holomessage, recorded by Him. You had explained the situation, and in the dire times, he decided that exposure was worth it. You're a bit pissed that Jeriax hasn't fixed the Drones wanting you dead yet, but that will be the least of your concerns in a few hours.

Your mission is to deliver it to the holomessage to the town center, revealing the imminent threat to the planet and how to avoid it. If they cannot, He will urge them to seek out their headquarters in the mountains as they attempt to escape. The message will also serve to alert the rest of the planet of the danger, therefore saving hundreds of millions of lives.

And you have almost completed the mission. You stare into the city square, with massive skyscrapers looming around you. This will be a matter of speed and stealth.

Khepri: Finish the job.

You draw your cloak around you, sweating bullets as you walk from the alleyway calmly. The drones haven't noticed you. Yet. You pick up the pace slightly.

In the center of the square, a massive golden statue of the Condesce stands tall. You scowl, and set down the holomessage by her feet. You press the central start button, and a massive fifty-foot, colored projection of an adult, robed figure appears. His face is shadowed, but His small horns emerge from the hood.

He gestures out grandly, and begins to speak in a gravelly voice. "TROLLS OF ALTERNIA," He begins. All of the trolls and drones in the square turn to the projection. Hundreds begin to crowd inwards to investigate the booming noise. Windows open from the skyscrapers, questioning the ruckus. "YOU MAY HAVE HEARD OF MY ANCESTOR FROM LEGEND, BUT THE TIME FOR HIS FOLLOWERS TO STAY HIDDEN HAS ENDED."

His head lifts slightly more towards the light, and bright cherry red eyes become extraordinary visible. "I AM THE SIGNLESS' DESCENDANT." Gasps emerge from across the square. "BUT THAT FACT WILL BECOME NAUGHT IN A MATTER OF HOURS. THE PLANET IS UNDER ATTACK BY A STORM OF METEORS, WHICH WILL BEGIN TO INCREASE IN FREQUENCY. IN FIVE HOURS, EVERY MAJOR CITY WILL BECOME A GRAVEYARD, AS THE METEORS TEND TO TARGET PLACES WHERE TROLL OCCUPATION AND DENSITY IS HIGHEST."

Panic begins to break out among those assembled, but He raises his hands once more. "I, THE SIGNLESS, HAVE DECIDED TO OPEN THE DOORS TO WHERE WE LIVE. MY FOLLOWERS AND I HAVE TAKEN SHELTER IN THE GRUBTOOTH MOUNTAIN RANGE. IF YOU CANNOT GET THERE BEFORE WE LEAVE OURSELVES, THEN THERE IS ANOTHER WAY OUT. IT IS KNOWN AS THE VIDEOGAME "SGRUB." THE GAME'S PROPERTIES ALLOW ONE'S HIVE TO COMPLETELY EXIT THIS PLANET, AND TAKE RESIDENCE UPON ANOTHER. GATHER THOSE CLOSEST TO YOU, AND ESCAPE WITH US OR WITH THE GAME. BUT ONE THING IS CERTAIN: ONCE THIS IS ALL OVER, THE TROLL RACE WILL BE GONE FROM PLANET ALTERNIA."

The Signless One lowers his hood.

The assembled gasp.

A rough, chiseled face stares intently into the crowd. A small amount of stubble clings to his sharp jaw, and his hair is wild and messy. "I GIVE YOU MY BLESSING." and the message ends.

For a moment, there is silence in the city. No drones are moving, no one is speaking.

Then a scream breaks the silence.

And chaos ensues. Exactly what you needed.

Khepri: Abscond.

You pull your cloak around you again, and leap into the crowd. You nearly get trampled several times, but you eventaully escape back into the alleys. You no longer have to worry about secrecy, so you drop the hood.

Seconds later, a massive metallic hand encloses around you.

You bite, kick and scream, but flesh is nothing compared to metal. The drone stares blankly into your face, giving no sign of letting you go. It's eyes light up, and you expect to be blasted into oblivion, but instead a feminine voice emerges. "Khepr1? 1s that y0u?" it asks. You nearly faint with pure relief. "((...took you long enough, sea-dweller...))"

A slight chuckle emerges. "1 was wa1t1ng f0r the r1ght m0ment. 1 have taken fu11 c0ntr01 0ver the dr0nes, and hundreds 0f transpo0rtat10n shutt1es are 0n their way." You smile, satistied with the news. "1 uh... was w0nder1ng s0meth1ng." Jeriax asks, somewhat hesitantly. You tilt you head curiously. "H0w... d1d y0u 11ve?" You smile fondly, recalling the story. "((...the followers of the signless keep a very close eye on the brooding caverns... in case of a mutant, or some troll that is supposed to be culled... like me...))" you say. "((...i was lucky that they found me before the jadebloods or drones did...))"

The drone is silent for a while. "((...are you okay?))" you ask. You hear coughing on the other side. "1'm f1ne," Jeriax says. "Just... th1nk1ng ab0ut s0me th1ngs." You nod in understanding. "((...well... could you set me down now?))" You can almost hear the sheepishness on the other end. "0h... s0rry, 1'11 f1x that n0w." The drone lowers to the ground, and releases you from its (literally) iron grip.

You dust off your cloak, then wave to the drone. "((...i'll be seeing you, once we get in the game...))" you say, and vanish into an alley. Moments later, you join an evacuation procession into a transportation shuttle.

The loading door closes, and the trolls are cloaked in darkness. The shuttle rumbles and you can feel it taking off into the air.

Khepri: Reflect.

You decide to reflect on your thoughts of the evening. You know that there's not a way to save everyone, but you can't help but be filled with energy and determination. If breaking the rules of this dying planet is what it takes to save the troll species, then so be it.

It's time to destroy the cloud of DOOM on planet Alternia.

Khepri: Be someone else.

The busted camera rushes back to the city and upwards in order to focus on a young troll girl, pacing worriedly in a large penthouse suite. What is her name?

Enter name: Arsunn Turpis.

Your name is ARSUNN TURPIS. You are a PURPLEBLOOD, a BUSINESS-GIRL, and an EX-SUBJUGGLATOR RECRUIT. You were once a part of the CLOWN CHURCH, but after seeing their CRUELTY and INSANE RAMBLING, you decided to disassociate yourself with them and start a NEW LIFE in ECONOMICS and in THE PRODUCTION INDUSTRY. Unfortunately, this has led to NUMEROUS ATTEMPTS ON YOUR LIFE by said Church. You're just lucky you have good security.

You have built a SMALL EMPIRE in the GAMING INDUSTRY, making you something of a CELEBRITY. You had no idea that the strange code from THE ABANDONED CROAKBEAST RUINS would have caused this apocalypse, however, and you are fairly concerned about the trouble you have now caused.

Besides your interest in economics, you have a few other interests. GAMING is, of course, one of them. You have a FAIRLY LARGE COLLECTION, seeing as you make and distribute about half the planet's GAMES and CONSOLES. Due to these games, you also have some slight interests in MEDIEVAL HISTORY, SCI-FI, MODERN WARFARE, and ANCIENT TIMES. Your online name is winsomeSpectre, and you speak in a way THAT €M₱HAS$IZ€$ ¥OUR W€A£TH AND POW€R.

What will you do?

Arsunn: Describe yourself.

Well, you already know you are very pretty, even without makeup. Everyone says your eyes have a shine, like if the moons turned white. Your hair is curly, but carefully combed into a quite large bundle that reaches all the way down to your ankles. Your horns are small, jutting outward and then inward again in a thick ninety degree angle.

As for your clothes, you wear a black polo with your sign on it, which resides above a light grey skirt. You also wear some slightly elevated heels, which give a slight click every time you put your foot down. It's very pleasant when it does that, as the repetitive noise when you pace always helps you to think, as you are now. Lastly, you stand at a height of five feet and two inches, and you are nearing your 6th wriggling day.

Arsunn: Look around.

You glance up from your pacing. You mentioned it before, but you live in a penthouse on the top of your company's skyscraper headquarters. The skyscraper itself is the tallest in the city, which allows for a beautiful view of the ocean which the city bordered and the prairie in the opposite direction. On good days, the clouds will form a layer beneath the penthouse for a beautiful glance at the sky. Today is not one of those days, however. Today is perfectly clear, allowing for a clear view of the moons and the brand new, moving and twinkling stars. You know what they are now, and they terrify you.

In the penthouse itself, you've renovated it from the previous owner's terrible decoration sense and made look very modern. Marble tile in the mealblock and front entrance, carpet in the respiteblock and recreationblock. Beautiful lights dot the apartment, colored rust, violet, bright green, gold, cerulean, and all the other colors of the hemospectrum, giving the place a very beautiful and reflective appearance. Sure, it was just a little dark, but that's not too much of a concern to you.

You have a private study where you do all of your business and company-management work, and of course your respiteblock which is where your recreational things, such as books and games, lie. That's really all there is to it.

Arsunn: Glace outside.

You head over to the window and look down. The streets are in chaos as the evacuation takes place. Looters are breaking in everywhere, using the end of the world to their full advantage. You saw the message play, seeing as the entrance to the building is based in the city center. You panicked yourself, but you were relieved that playing SGRUB was a way out. You feel lucky that you signed up for that playing group.

Arsunn: Check online.

You decide to get online and see what's been going on. You're greeted with a lot of messages from a memo you didn't notice before. You quickly read through the convo, and realize that the drones and the transports were most likely because of the Signless descendant and the Heiress Apparent working together, despite being complete opposites. You're a bit shocked by it, but you get over it quickly. There are bigger finbeasts to fry. You need to contact the jadeblood.

winsomeSpectre [WS] has begun trolling wildernessIntrepid [WI].

WS: ₣U¢K, I ¢AN'T BE£I€V€ I MI$$€D THAT WHO£€ ¢ONVO.

WI: _Oh! Iea, ieou kinda missed everiething. :/_

WI: _Ieou do get the gist of what we were, saieing, right?_

WS: ¥€$, I DO. I'M NOT $UR€ I₣ I ¢AN JU$T £ET RANDOM TRO££$ INTO M¥ HIV€, HOW€V€R.

WS: MAIN£¥ B€¢AU$€ I HAV€ A £OT O₣ €N€MI€$.

WI: _How so?_

WS: I RUN TH€ ¢OM₱AN¥ THAT ₱RODU¢€D $GRUB.

WS: TH€ €NTIR€ ¢₤OWN ¢HUR¢H WANT$ M¥ HEAD ON TH€IR WA££.

WS: AND I'M ON€ O₣ TH€ RI¢H€$T TRO££$ ON A£T€RNIA.

WI: _Wait, you made SGRUB?_

WS: NO. I ON£¥ DI$TRIBUT€D IT.

WS: $OM€ A$$HAT $O£D IT TO U$ FROM A WEIRD HO₱B€A$T RUIN IN TH€ O¢€AN.

WI: _Could ieou not have inspected the code?_

WS: W€ DID, BUT NOTHING A₱₱€AR€D OUT OF TH€ ORDINAR¥. A££ W€ ¢OU£D REA££Y TE££ I$ THAT IT WA$ A GAM€.

WI: _Hrm. Well, we shouldn't reflect on the past for too long, seeing as the apocaliepse is on its waie._

WS: AGR€€D. BUT B€$ID€S THAT, I$ TH€R€ AN¥ OTH€R WA¥ I ¢AN H€£₱?

WI: _How about using ieour influence to spread the word?_

WS: €A$¥ ₱€A$¥. ¥OU HAV€ AN ON£IN€ ¢O₱¥ O₣ TH€ HO£OM€$$AG€?

WI: _I do, actuallie. Here.

wildernessIntrepid sent a file to winsomeSpectre.

WS: ₱€R₣€¢T. THI$ WI££ BE BROADCA$TING ON A££ TIM€ZON€$ IN A MATT€R O₣ MINUT€$.

WI: _Thank goodness. And thank ieou so much... uh... _

WS: AR$UNN.

WS: AR$UNN TUR₱I$.

WI: _Well, it's nice to meet ieou, even under these impromptu circumstances._

WS: GOOD TO M€€T ¥OU TOO, ₣IRRIN.

WS has ceased trolling WI.

With lightning speed, you download the file and send it anonymously to a news station. Within minutes, you're listening to the story on the radio, while seeing the muted TV frantically recounting the story. Good, you've done your part. Now, you just have to get you and all of your employees in the building off-planet.

Easier said than done.

Despite the difficulty, you know you'll do fine. You'll bring all shades of the hemospectrum together, in a coalition for survival on the planets of wherever you're going.

Your own purple BLOOD pulses in anticipation.

Arsunn: Be someone else.

The field of view warps, and the endless stone brick labyrinth reappears. You, Vallem, are exploring said labyrinth. You're not an idiot, however, because you left a trail of candy for yourself. It was the first thing you could find, and it works. As you unwrap set down another candy, you look around in the chamber. The stone in this room is overgrown, infested with vines and grasses. A small beam of light illuminates the center of the room, where a tiny pool collects a pool of water. You smile at the pretty scene.

You take another piece of candy from your pocket, and you're about to place it down when something moves in the corner of your eye. You whip around, but nothing is there. You're very on edge.

Another movement from behind.

And yet again, nothing is there. But this time, you got a better glance at the possible attacker. You remember it was small, walked upright, and was covered in fur. That's all you could make out, however.

Vallem: Equip Strife Specibus weapon.

You reach into your Strife Deck and remove your LONGBOW. You also take your VIOLIN and sling it across your back. Never hurts to be careful.

You feel quite lucky this bow came from a fairly good FLARPing session, as it doesn't require you to have arrows available. Instead, it created an arrow out of energy when the bowstring is drawn back. You place your hand around the string, and a golden, glowing arrow forms. You instantly feel safer.

The feeling doesn't last long.

Suddenly, you are surrounded by tiny furry figures. They're nutbeasts, you realize. However, these creatures should not have spears aimed at you. Nor should they be walking, for that matter. But hey, it's a video game.

Vallem: Inspect nutbeasts.

The creatures, unlike most other fauna on Alternia, is not a bright white. Instead, they come in a small variety of colors: chestnut brown, ash grey, hazel, and other earthy shades. They appear very angry, but you can detect a hint of fear in their massive eyes.

[S] Vallem: Soothe the creatures with a song.

You smile. Never hurts to show off every now and then. You place your bow back into your Strife Deck, and unsling your violin and it's bow. The nutbeasts grow wary with your movements, so you slow everything down just in case. You place the violin bow to the strings, and begin to play.

A calming melody begins to waft through the quiet air, and the nutbeasts gain a look of surprise. One squeaks in response to the strange noise. You don't see this, however, you have your eyes closed in focus. Back and forth. Angle the bow this way, and then that.

It feels like hours later when you finally stop. The melody calmed you as well, for you based it on an old lullaby the swarm would buzz-hum to you as a grub. The nutbeasts have dropped their weapons, and are looking up at you curiously. You don't know if they have intelligence, but you speak to them anyway. "))Hello," you say. "))My name iz Vallem. What'z your namez?"

The spark of recognition is in their eyes, but none of them seems willing to speak up. Until one, a dark oak brown emerges from the back, and stands before you bravely. The creature wears a leather hide around his body, and his spear is decorated with feathers and dried plants. "My name is Chief Almondwing. I am the leader of this tribe before you." he gestures to the group, and they squeak in affirmation. "We have never seen any of your kind before, and it was slightly disturbing to us, hence our blatant caution."

You nod. "))I underztand. But if I may azk... what are you?"

The nutbeast chief releases a surprisingly hearty and booming laugh. "We should be askin' you that, son! You're the one new to these parts!" You flush in slight sheepishness. Almondwing waves it off, however. "Think nuthin of it! Anyway, we are the Squirrelkind. If you want to get specific, then we are the Flying Squirrelkind." Your eyes nearly launch out of your head. "))You can fly?!" you nearly shout. Amusement twinkles in the Chieftain's eyes. "No, just glide. Using these bad boys." he launches into an "X" shaped pose, allowing the strange membranes between his legs and arms to become very visible.

"We can use them to travel along the wind currents, moving us across the Land of Twilight and Bastille in record time. And this... " he says, slamming his spear into the ground. "Is our current place of residence. We guard it with our life, because food and water is scarce in this place of stone." You nod, cataloging the information for later. "))Hm. Iz tzhat why you wanted my candy?" you ask. Almondwing nods his head vigorously. "Yes. We take what we can get, and if someone just leaves food around, then there's no way in Kratos' ass that we wouldn't take it."

"Well, I have a lot more food back at my hive," you say. The squirrels gasp in awe. "Would you really do that for us?" Almondwing asks. You nod, and give a smile. "))I got way too much anyway." At your words, the tribe breaks out in joyous celebration, crying and hugging each other.

A warm feeling rises in your chest. It's a feeling of energy, hope, and determination.

You're filled with LIFE.

Vallem: Be someone else.

You are now Naerys again. Your house appears to have materialized on a dark purple rock mesa, with the sand dunes below colored a light violet. Massive purple flames cover sections of the dunes, and great columns of smoke obscure the sky.

On the many mesas, strange metallic and stylized towers emerge from the stone, glowing with a strange yellow energy.

You gulp nervously.

Your lusus, your sprite, and the snake named Iskera flies up next to you. You prototyped the Kernelsprite with your lusus, for starters. You then (accidentally) prototyped it again with your Lava Lamp. It made for a cool effect on the her body, but also gave her LAVA SPITTING POWERS! How awesome is that?

"Naerysss? Are you okay?" Iskerasprite asks. You sigh. "~m4ybe..~" you say. She hisses her concern. You sit down on the rocky ground, knowing that this is going to be another opening up session. You're just glad that your custodian can actually respond this time.

"~i don't think i'm re4dy for this,~" you begin. "~i me4n, i 4m f4cing 4 purple hellsc4pe full of fire 4nd de4th. nothing could h4ve even begun to prep4re me." You sigh again. "~i w4s content with surviving by going "under the r4dar." if letting trolls w4lk 4ll over me is wh4t it t4kes to survive, then so be it.~"

You point your finger towards the world in front of you. "~4nd then th4t choice w4s forcefully taken from me by this fucking g4me. now i'm going to h4ve to… i don't know, do wh4tever it is you do in 4 g4me.~"

"Win it?"

"~no duh!~"

"Then what are you ssso conssserned about?"

"~i'm concerned 4bout how this g4me z4apped us to 4nother dimension. 4nd if it c4n do th4t, wh4t else c4n it do?~"

"I can tell you your objective, if you'd like."

"~you c4n?~"

"I'm a Sssprite now, wriggler. It'sss my job to inform you of thisss game."

"~then tell me: wh4t do i need to do?~"

"Well, in order to do that sssuccesssfully, I need to tell you a ssstory."

"~i'm 4ll e4rs.~"

Iskerasprite curls up on the ground, and beckons with her tail. You place yourself into the space she made for you, placing your head onto the ethereal scales of your lusus.

And she begins to speak. It was a story of peace, conflicting iddeals, seperation, war and change. It was a story of bloodhsed, tragedy and great battles. It was a story for the future of this very place where you sit. And once she had caught you up to the present, you begin to understand.

And the understanding makes you angry.

It was an unfinished story, yet a fraction of the ending had already been set in stone. The golden planet of good, kind-hearted people would fail, and die. The violet planet of evil, black-hearted people would succeed, and kill off the golden planet. That is no way for a story to end.

An insufferable heat begins to burn in your soul. Your safeguards against it begin to fail, for the emotions are too strong. The barriers you had spent so long cultivating fall against the onslaught.

The heat consumes you, igniting a burning passion.

You're filled with RAGE.

Naerys: Be someone else.

Perspective returns to the homeworld, and plunges below the churning waves. You sink deeper, and the water gets colder and darker, until a jagged crevice, a trench hidden in the blackness appears. A cave carved in the rocky wall comes into focus, and a gigantic white sea-shellbeast door covers the entrance. The tunnels beyond it lead into the earth, and eventually into a decorative and highly furbished cave. Everything looks very expensive, from the colorful furniture to the very floor, which is covered in marble tile. On a dark blue couch, a sea-dweller resides. He reads a book: "The Most Influential Highbloods of All Time."

Who the hell's this douchebag?

Enter Name: Morvis Savake.

Your name is MORVIS SAVAKE. As previously mentioned, you're a SEADWELLER. A VIOLETBLOOD, to be specific. That means you're ROYALTY, above all others (except for the royalty above you.) You already know you're a COMPLETE DOUCHEBAG, but unlike other douchebags, you EMBRACE IT. You take pleasure in putting others in the GUTTER, and you've had fun doing it. You have a wall in your respiteblock where you place the GOVERNMENT DOSSIERS of those you've CULLED, which you call your CULLCOUNT. You've kept track, and it's racked up to 2,349 LOWBLOODS AND MIDBLOODS.

You have a few INTERESTS and, obviously, lowering the population of LOWBLOOD SCUM is one of them. You also have an interest in HUNTING AND TROPHIES, as in your spare time you'll go out and hunt THE BIGGEST CREATURES ON ALTERNIA. It's how you got your SEA-SHELLBEAST DOOR, when you looted the carapace for a trophy. You have various other ones, such as the PINCERS of a VERTICULAR CARAPACE-CRAWLER, the TUSKS of a FRILLY FRIGIDER, or the FEATHERS of a EYE-WINGED PEALION.

Your online name is sharpenedAntithesis, and you speak in a way Th/\t is \/ery up /\nd do\/\/n. That's really about it. You're a douchebag, but you're a simple one.

Morvis: Describe yourself.

Why should you do anything for anyone? You're royalty, you don't gotta do shit for some peasant reading a shitty webcomic without any actual comic. That's something only a lowblood would do. Fuck off.

Morvis: Give a very general description of yourself.

...fine. You're a violetblood, you wear a violet dress shirt with black dress pants and those weird straps over the shirt. Your sign, Aquittarius, is in black. Your hair is slicked, in a forward-facing, dashing style. You keep it somewhat long, enough to obscure an eye. Your horns stick up and to the sides, with a triangle-shaped dent in them, similar to the upper portion of your sign. They do curve upward afterwards.

You're eight and a half sweeps old, and you used to stand at 5'6". Until you sliced your legs off and called up another highblood who you paid extensively to make you some much longer legs. Now you stand at 5'11", which is much more respectable and somewhat modest.

Morvis: Take a glance around.

You look up from your book. The cave is large, yet carved like a typical block: square-shaped. Carpet floors, which transition over to marble tile over in the bar area. Violet couches, a massive TV, and the shittiest games you can get your hands on. Everything is water proof, just in case the shellbeast carapace fails to keep out the salty depths.

You have a small mansion down here. A gymnasium, a wine cellar, a very big kitchen (which you don't use, because you can't cook for shit), and various other blocks you don't use but you wanted back as a wriggler. You haven't bothered to get rid of any of them, only because you're really fucking lazy.

Morvis: Don't be bloodist.

No.

Morvis: Check online.

Again, no.

You don't take orders from lowblood-equality enthusiasts.

Morvis: Could you please check online?

Now we're getting somewhere. It was an order before, now it's a request. Maybe if someone could, oh, you don't know…

Really suck your metaphorical bulge?

Morvis: You're the fucking best you pureblooded stud!

Now THAT'S more fucking like it!

You smile calmly, carefully placing a bookmark in your tome and setting it down. You jump into your swivel chair and quickly log on to Trollian.

Oh troll Jegus Christ, that's a lot of notifications.

You stare at the "99+" icon in that memo you weren't in before, and also at the few notifications you've gotten from other lowblooded scum who were likely a part of that convo.

You honestly only joined that gaming group because A: you were bored, and B: Jeriax convinced you. You had hoped that the Heiress had more sense than to affiliate with the filth below them, but clearly not. She even heavily participated in said memo. Helping evacuate the landdwellers? Conspiring with A LIME BLOOD?!

You narrow your eyes. This cannot go unattended. You're about to grab your throwing knives from your KNIFEKIND specibus, but a sudden notification stops you. Someone's trying to message you.

benevolentNightmare[BN] has begun messaging sharpenedAntithesis[SA].

BN: -KAY S- I C-NNECTE- T- S-ME-NE RAN-M AN- Y-UR NAME P-PPE- UP.

BN: I GUESS I'M HELPING Y-U -UT N-W.

BN: WH-EVER Y-U ARE.

SA: D/\MNIT

SA: This is bullshit.

SA: Out of E\/ERYONE I could h/\\\/e been p/\ired with…

SA: I get the glubbing rustblood.

SA: Fuck my life.

BN: NAH.

BN: —N'T EVEN KN-W Y-UR NAME, SEA-WELLER.

SA: Fuck you too.

BN: IF Y-U KEEP SAYING IT, I JUST MIGHT G- THR-UGH WITH IT.

SA: Th/\t's it, /\s /\lterni/\n roy/\lty, I comm/\nd you to SHUT THE FUCK UP.

SA: ...

SA: Huh, c/\n't belie\/e th/\t /\ctu/\lly worked.

SA: /\lright "Xor\/ek", listen up bec/\use I'm not repe/\ting myself.

SA: Now th/\t we'\/e connected, I need you to pl/\ce down e\/erything I'll need to get off this rock /\nd fuck off.

SA: Get it done.

BN: ACKN-WLE-GE-.

benevolentNightmare has ceased trolling sharpenedAntithesis.

You make sure to remain emotionless as the machines begin appearing in the block. You need to show nothing to the rustblood, lest he gain an advantage on you. Let his mind think in the darkness that you're forcing on him. Let it come to its own, most likely false conclusions. You know this will happen because you have done this trick hundreds of times before.

You'll never give away the details, though.

You have your secrets, and they only belong to you and the VOID from where they came.

Morvis: Be someone else.

You're now back to Xorvek, a few minutes in the future. And you'd be damned if you aren't having some fucking fun.

You laugh maniacally as a horde of dripping black beasts with quill wings and canine features attack you, while you blow them apart with your rifle. Their bodies are very weak, and fall apart into sludge once you blast a bullet into their skull. You're really wishing one of those massive things with the tusks come back, those guys proved a challenge.

The red crags are splattered with black sludge, not to mention that shit's all over you. It's nasty, but so awesome. You're going to need one hell of a shower, because it's also the world's worst adhesive. Your clothes are basically stuck to your skin now. God you hate this but also love this.

You can't worry about your eventual shower, however, as a group of enemies appears on the horizon. Looks like a few of those tusk fellows are coming your way. You smirk with anticipation. This will take a while, but it will be very worth it.

About damn TIME something was worth anything.

* * *

**Hello everyone! I'm back with a full chapter this time, instead of a small intermission. Yes, that intermission will play a VERY important part in the story, and we'll be following Commander Aashio in a few more Intermissions, which will not arrive until later. **

**Anyway, in case you couldn't tell, this chapter (split into two parts) will serve to introduce the twelve new trolls, and their aspects. The first six have been introduced here, and I'll introduce the next six next time, as well as everyone's favorite Dersite. ;)**

**Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time.**

**-Ravens of Odin**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Strong Emotions, Part 2**


	4. Chapter 2: Part 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Homestuck, only the characters in Andrew Hussie's world.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Strong Emotions, Part 2**

Xorvek: Be the Heiress Apparent.

Oh, but don't you understand? There is no Heiress Apparent. Try again.

Xorvek: Be the Oliveblood.

You are now the Oliveblood, also known as GEDEMA SORDAK. In the SYSTEM, you barely exist. On the STREETS, you are feared and regarded as something akin to a SAVAGE BEAST. You're the famous ATTACK DOG of THE UNDERWORLD, which is an ORGANIZED CRIME GROUP. The HIGH-RANKING MEMBERS, like yourself, are given names based on OLD MYTHOLOGY of the Underworld. Your organization name is THANATOS, who was the personification of DEATH.

You're extremely proficient in THE MURDER INDUSTRY, lowbloods and highbloods alike. You don't leave any EVIDENCE that Gedema was there, but leave plenty of evidence that THANATOS was. Your CALLING CARD is the CORPSES OF YOUR VICTIMS: beaten and smashed beyond recognition. You do this with your STRIFE SPECIBUS: GLOVEKIND. The weapon is a pair of LARGE METAL GAUNTLETS, built for CRUSHING BONE WITH PUNCHES AND BLOWS.

You only kill for one person, the one with many names: HADES, HEL, PLUTO, ANUBIS, ENMA, but you just call him THE BOSS. Your online name is adroitlyInsidious, and you speak in a way thats vry quick, not llong, and to th point of th subjct

You can't command on what to do, however, as you're already doing something: boarding up the windows of the Underworld's hideout. The Boss ordered you and the other grunts to begin preparing the abandoned warehouse for when the game's enemies arrive and begin attacking the hideout. Guns and munitions were stolen and stockpiled, food and water was looted and rationed.

It was a long and arduous process, but it needed to be done. You have a bunch of trolls and their lusii to care for, specifically about three hundred each. They need to be protected, according to the Boss. And you ain't ever gonna disobey orders.

Luckily, you're working on the last window. You nail the final board into place, and double check your work. You nod, satisfied, and turn to the Underworld's Head Intelligence Operative, known only as Ammet. "so whats gonna happn now," you ask. Ammet consults his list of directives from the Boss. "A))ording to HAdes, we gottA set up A primiter Around the bAse."

You nod, knowing exactly where to start. "gt th spis out and aroun our nvironmnt, finding pllacs whr w can do so." Ammet raises an eyebrow, bronze irises shining in the dark. "ThAt's literAlly how you set up A perimeter."

"thn do that, and arm th grunts with anything thy may nd. aftr that w can xpand outwards, and forg a trritory in this wird city." you say, proud of yourself for thinking of the plan. Goddamn are you fucking good at logic. Ammet is clearly not impressed, however, as he slaps a hand to his face and sighs.

"I'm not even going to Argue with you, this is A lost )Ause." he says, and walks off while muttering something to himself.

Finally, some time to yourself.

Gedema: Describe yourself.

A'ight, why not. As previously mentioned, you're an Oliveblood, and a master of death. You wear some clothes you found around the warehouse, which is basically a tank top, some cargo pants, work boots, and an olive, stylized leather apron which you've cut short and tucked into your belt. It serves to give you a very "not afraid to get dirty" appearance, which has always left your enemies very afraid.

Your horns are thick, rounded, and somewhat odd: they face upward, then curve slightly inward. Or, one of them does. Your right horn is smaller than the left, for reasons you have no idea about. You're fairly muscular, due to the amount of strength it takes to lift and swing your metal gloves. And damn do you like to show it off, especially when you can do more than the average grunt.

You're pretty damn tall as well, coming in at 6'2". It's pretty impressive for your age, which is actually quite young: you're only a little over five sweeps old.

Anything else?

Gedema: Do a silly dance.

The fuck? No!

At least not in semi-public, anyway. You have a persona to maintain.

Gedema: Examine surroundings.

You look around the warehouse. You're standing on the concrete floor, in the center of the place. Large metal sheets make up the rectangular sides, and they were great for keeping out prying eyes and snooping drones. There's an overseer's office on the second floor, which was boarded up long before. It's been converted to the apartment of the Boss, so this place is his hive, and therefore, his rules.

Gedema: Explain who the Boss is.

How the hell does someone NOT know who the Boss is? Hades! Anubis! The King of the Underworld!

Condesce above, chicks and dudes need some fuckin' schooling. The Boss was one of the most powerful people on Alternia, save for the highbloods. He had small Underworld sub-stations in all major cities, as well as having thousands of members under his control. The highbloods are definitely angry at him for taking away their control, but he has never been found, thanks to you.

And you're eternally loyal to him. Your lusus was murdered by a highblood, and you were nearly killed as well, until the Boss saved you. He was kind, caring, and took you in when no one else would. So when he created the Underworld, there was no chance in hell you wouldn't sign up. You've been his most loyal member for sweeps, and you intend to stay that way.

It's too bad, for all his accomplishments, the world is ending and none of that matters now.

Gedema: Talk to the Boss.

You take the metal steps to the upper level, and knock on the Boss' door. "COMME INN," you hear the voice respond. You enter, and the Boss is calmly writing on some documents. "YES, THANNATOS?" he says, a rust-colored eye connecting with yours. "prparations ar don, boss. th warhous is fortifid," you say. The Boss nods, and places down his pen. "BRRINNG YOURR LLAPTOP HERRE. I WANNT TO SEE THE TRROLLS WE ARRE SHARRINNG THIS NNEW UNNIVERSE WITH." You nod, and salute as is customary with Underworld etiquette. You retrieve the laptop, and pull up the group conversation.

You watch his emotions closely as he reads out certain parts. He growls when he reads the nasty comments of the blueblood, but smiles when he gets to the agreement to save civilians. "WHAT ABBOUT THE PURRPLEBLOOD ANND THE VVIOLLET BLLOOD?" he asks. "i prsonally havn't hard a word from thm, but thy may hav contactd othrs," you say in response. The Boss nods, and turns to face you fully.

"I WANNT YYOU TO ORRGANNIZE ANN EXPLLORRATIONN PARRTY," he begins. "YYOU'LL BE THE LLEADERR OF THIS GRROUP. KILL ANNY MMONNSTERRS YYOU MMAYY ENNCOUNNTERR, ANND ASSOCIATE YYOURRSELLF WITH ANNY LOCALLS. MMAKE A GOOD IMMPRESSIONN." You grin, and press the buttons on each of your identical bracelets. In a matter of seconds, two massive metal fists appear on your arms. "sir ys sir," you say.

Your **HEART** beats faster.

Gedema: Be the Bronzeblood.

You're now Phonix again. You've finished clearing the first factory, as you've discovered this place is full of them. The consorts (which are a strange grey creature that seems to resemble a hoofbeast, but with bigger ears and a strange braying sound) are forced to work in these manufacturing plants, destroying their soul and spirit. The monsters with the features resembling your lusus are the culprits, and you destroyed them one by one, no mercy.

Damn you love your kite shield. It's protective, and the pointed bottom is sharpened to that you can still slice through them goopy beings like a knife through butter. And that's exactly what it did. The consorts were still in shock over the fact that they didn't have to work anymore, but you know they just need some time to process.

So for now, you're just watching the sky. Which is remarkably empty. No stars. Only Skaia, and the strange other plants, are in the sky. You're lucky that your hive is placed on top of a tall factory, as the cloudy, and somewhat toxic smog obscures everything down below. So your place of residence is possibly the safe space on the planet.

You're pretty bored though. At least back on Alternia you had something to do. Here, you're just somewhat useless.

What will you do to pass the time?

Phonix: Look at the surrounding bodies through your telescope.

Say, that's a positively swell idea!

You rush up to your hive's small balcony, where your telescope is. You see Skaia, and eleven other plants. Which one will you observe?

Phonix: Look at Skaia.

You peer into your telescope, fiddle with some knobs, and see Skaia in a very clear view. It's a beautiful blue planet, with a glowing light at its center. Massive clouds swirl around it, some flashing with strange visions. It kinda gives you a headache to stare at it for too long, so you look away.

Phonix: Look at the adjacent planet.

You glance off to your left, and look at the planet up there. From a distance, it's mostly yellow and orange with spots of grey. Upon a closer look with your telescope, you can see that the yellow is actually a forest of crystals. Large and small, erupting out of the earth like mountains. The grey spots are actually massive palaces, reaching into the heavens. And against all odds, you somehow spot a hive also reaching upwards. Stack upon stack, layer upon layer of mismatched parts and oblong rooms. It's nowhere close to the height of the palaces, but it's still very impressive.

You get the feeling that the planet is the Land of Crystals and Dungeons. That means that the girl Firrin is most likely the owner of the hive. But unfortunately, you're on different planets, so it will likely be very hard to get over to her. Well, everyone has their crosses to bear.

Phonix: Take a look at other planets.

You take a look at the other planets, in a clockwise order. There's the Land of Crystals and Dungeons, then a really bright planet full of bright signs and moving things. You can barely keep track of anything, and you'll just get dizzy trying. The third planet is a dark blue color from a distance, though you find it's because the planet is very dark in general. Dark blue and black oceans cover most of the surface, with snowy mountains and mists on the landforms. For some reason, something about it gives you bad vibes and the shivers.

The fourth planet is covered in beautiful dark green foliage, which you find is coniferous woodland. Gentle clouds fill the sky, and the whole sight is very beautiful. The fifth planet is very black, or a dark grey, but upon closer inspection it's because the planet is hollow and full of water. The blackness of space on the other side was just showing through. How a planet like that could form is beyond you, but you won't question it too much. You get teleported to another dimension, anything is possible now.

The sixth planet glows brightly, as spotlights shine upwards with fluid and gentle motions. The planet seems to be covered in laminated wood flooring, play sets and stages everywhere. Screens, old-style and new, massive and tiny, dot the place like plants, displaying a never-ending loop of static.

The seventh planet is a light blue from a distance, but completely chock-full of massive, violent clouds, with hundreds of rainbows appearing and vanishing in and out of the clouds like delphinbeasts. You can't see anything beneath the storms, however. The cloud layer is just too thick.

The eighth planet is covered in grasslands, and you can see the wind making the grass wave all the way from space. It's also covered in little settlements, which kinda remind you of really early troll civilization. The ninth planet is very grey, and when you look closer, you see that it's completely covered in a maze of towers, castles and walls. The atmospheric glow tells you that the sky is dark blue and orange, and it seems to be a planetary constant. You assume it to be the Land of Twilight and Bastille.

The tenth planet is smothered in an incredible amount of purple, as you find that everything is covered in violet sand and dark purple rocks. You think you also see light purple flames. It kinda makes your eyes hurt. And finally, the eleventh planet is a dark red in color; mostly flat with canyons and crags sticking out at random places. The surface is just littered with the crevices, so it must be hard to navigate on the surface and in the canyons. The ground also appears to be littered with stuff, but you can't tell what.

Boy howdy, these planets are weird.

Phonix: Check up on consorts.

Sure, why not. You hop down from the balcony, and slowly descend the chain into the smog. Eventually, you hit the bottom, and place a scarf you found back in your hive across your mouth. You enter the dark factory which you liberated, and see the creatures organized on the main production floor, chatting, braying and breaking bread with each other. They turn when you enter, however, and erupt in cheers.

They swarm around your legs, some in tears as they give thanks. You can see it in their eyes: gratefulness, happiness, and an emotion that makes your own flare like gasoline on a wildfire.

It's **HOPE**.

Phonix: Be someone else.

Time to meet someone else new! Who will it be this ti-

Oh.

It's the douchebag.

Your name is RAUVAR EBRIAL. You're an Indigoblood, and goddamn do you NOT CARE. In your eyes, the HEMOSPECTRUM PHILOSOPHY is DYING and BARELY ANYONE adheres to it anymore. The only ones left doing so are the HIGHBLOODS, who are struggling to maintain the power they once had. It's quite pitiful, really. You're technically a highblood as well, but who honestly gives a shit.

You know yourself very well, so you know that you're honestly very LAZY when there is nothing else to do. You prefer to do any arguing ONLINE, as you can't be bothered to leave your HIVE in the ALTERNIAN WASTELANDS. You admit that, at times, you've been VERY RUDE AND HORRIBLE, but you don't like being called out on it, so YOU DEFEND IT even when it's WRONG.

You have two main INTERESTS. First, ROBOTICS. After exploring the WASTELANDS, you found a couple of OLD HIVES, likely abandoned when the OWNERS came of age to GO OFF-WORLD. One of the castles had contained THOUSANDS OF ROBOT CORPSES, and was also full of BLUEPRINTS. You became infatuated with your MACHINES and ENGINEERING, and using the blueprints you became VERY GOOD AT IT. Eventually you took your talents CORPORATE, and you've become the HEAD ENGINEER for a high-end company called LOGITECH.

You also have a much more private interest in THEATER and PLAYS. You have been told that you have an INCREDIBLE VOICE and RANGE, and you've used it to practice ACTING in the PLANET'S BIGGEST SHOWS, MUSICALS AND OPERAS. Your talent surpasses all, except for that of THE THESPIAN, who you have discovered is YOUR ANCESTOR. Even worse, you JUST MISSED HIS DEATH, which was a mere 100 SWEEPS AGO.

So close, yet so far.

As for your ONLINE PRESENCE, your online name is dramaticfixture, and you speak in a way (: THAT ISS LAWNG AND DRAWN WAOUT, IN WAORDER TAW GET YAWUR PAWINT ACRAWSS. ):

What will you do?

Rauvar: Describe yourself.

Well, you bleed blue. You guess that's a good start. You almost constantly wear your favorite and most stylish coat, given to you by the Alternian Guild of Engineers in order to signify your position. It was a long and almost cult-like process, but now you've got a high standing in it. The coat itself was customized to your blood color, and is decorated with metal cogs. One is placed on your shoulder strap in the center of the coat, and two other ones are placed as shoulder pads. It's a look reminiscent of the old steampunk concept, and you like it. And of course, you can't live on planet Alternia (literally) without the identification sign somewhere on your body. In this case, it's engraved onto the central cog.

You're very short in stature, coming in at about 4'6". You're very certain that's just because you haven't hit your growth spurt yet.

Probably.

Like most Indigos, you're pretty strong, which helps with your engineering and blacksmithing, which you do in order to get specific parts. You could just bend the metal into shape, but it's more fun this way. This strength means that your coat, when first made, had ripped extremely easily due to your quick movements. Luckily, you got a replacement which was looser-fitting. Your hair is half-trained with gel, giving it a restricted yet natural look. Your horns are downward-facing: they emerge from your temples, extending outward and downward, and stopping at your cheeks, in a shape resembling a football. Lastly, you are five and a half sweeps old.

Rauvar: Examine surroundings.

You glance around at your respiteblock. You're currently browsing the web on your husktop, and chatting with some of your friends from various plays, from work and from the Guild. Around your room, various small contraptions lie half-finished, as you tend to lose interest in personal projects you don't like. On your workbench, a massive electric train's engine is being constructed, as your department got a call from the transportation industry about how the trains need upgrades.

There's a large window that observes the wasteland outside. It's very barren, just cracked rocks going for miles until you hit the ocean or the mountains. Nothing much to say.

You've framed the scripts of all the plays you've been in, but being in "The Ectobeast of the Deepvoicesingingblock" was one of the best things you have ever done. In fact, that was the pinnacle of your acting career. You've been complimented on your acting several times because of it, and you intend to keep the praise rolling.

Lastly, there's your large walk-in wardrobe. Of course, trolls do not have very much of a fashion sense, so it's really just a bunch of black and gray outfits that you put beneath your coat. You don't care too much about what is put underneath the coat, as no one else cares about anything but the coat.

Yeah, that's about it. Nothing much to say.

Rauvar: Look at your chats.

You have a few open right now, most of them with the friends you made in the plays. You honestly don't care if they're lowblooded or not, which is partially why they put up with you. The other reason is that you're always a much better person when you're doing something you love.

You're honestly pretty lucky to have them.

You should probably check in with that blueblood, seeing as he's the guy who will get you off this planet before it's too late.

dramaticfixture[DF] has begun trolling melodicApostle[MA].

DF: (: HEY. BLUEBLEWD. ):

DF: (: I'D LIKE TAW GET YAOFF THISS PLANET SSAWMTIME SSEWN. ):

MA: ))Oh great. It'z you.

DF: (: YAWU BET YAWUR ASS IT ISS. ):

DF: (: NAW PLACE DAWN THAWSSE MACHINESS SSAW I DAWN'T HAVE TAW DEAL WITH YAWU ANYMAWRE. ):

MA: ))If tzhat'z your reazoning, then abzo-fuckin-lutely.

Seconds after his response, you hear a loud thud from downstairs, followed by two more. You start to get a little worried about the possibility of "justice for the goldblood." Man, you didn't even mean a thing about the lowblood comment, but it had gone too far.

DF: (: THE FUCK WASS THAT?! ):

MA: ))Tzhe machinez. Like you azked.

DF: (: YAWU'D BETTER NAWT HAVE PUT THEM IN A VERY INCAWNVENIENT PAWSITIAWN. ):

MA: ))Now why would I do tzhat?

DF: (: BECAUSSE YAWU WANT REVENGE FAWR THE GAWLDBEWD? ):

MA: ))Tzhat's a fair guezz. But no, I did not do anytzhing to the machinez bezides put them in a plaze where it'z eazy to accezz.

MA: ))I may not like you, but thiz is about the zurvival of our zpecies.

MA: ))The time for "revenge" is not tzhis one. We need all tzhe zupport we can get, and I'm not one for violenze. Doing what you zaid would have a chanze of killing you, and tzhere'z no way in the multiverze I would do tzhat.

DF: ...

DF: (: ...THANKSS. ):

MA: ))No problem.

MA: ))Now go not die.

DF: (: YEA, SSURE. ):

dramaticFixture has ceased trolling melodicApostle.

You're honestly flabbergasted by his behavior. He had every opportunity to hinder your progress, and yet… he didn't.

You don't understand it all. You, if you were in his situation, would have definitely fucked with him, survival of the species or no. Maybe that's why no one likes you. Maybe he's just a better person than you.

Condesce above, you suck.

Sadly, there's nothing you can do to change it. All those articles you found written by people smarter than you prove it.

Your **MIND** always tells you otherwise.

Rauvar: Be Vallem.

You're back to being Vallem, and everything is calm at the moment. You and the squirrels are eating honey sandwiches. The honey itself came from the Bumblebird Queen, who was gracious enough to provide some of the stores they had managed to bring along before the end of the world.

"So, Vallem," Almongwing says. "You're telling me, let me get this right, that you played a game back on your world and then got transported to ours?" You nod enthusiastically, unable to say anything with your mouth full.

You swallow a few seconds later. "))Yea, tzhat's right," you say. "))And if I'm correct, my friendz should be arriving on other planetz in tzhis zyztem." Almondwing nods, and then his eyes light up. "Say, stranger, you wouldn't happen to know a song by the name of Sunrise Sonata?"

You blink, surprised. "))I do, actually," you say, and take your violin from its specibus. You take a minute to remember the lyrics, and slide the bow across the strings once more. The song stuck in your head a while ago because it sounded like a lullaby, and your caretakers would use it to hum you to sleep every night.

Of course, as you play, the bumblebirds begin to flap their wings and hum in various vibrations, making the bass of the song. And much to your shock, to the point where you nearly falter in your playing, the Squirrelkind begin the tenor and the alto parts of the song. The auditorium rocks echoes the sound like a cave wall, and the sweet, soothing piece comes to a close.

For a minute, the final notes hang in the air like a thin mist. Not another sound is uttered. And then, the moment comes to a close. You and the others seem to snap out of the trance you were in, and then the Squirrels collectively gasp as a realization comes over them. They stand up in their seats, and then kneel almost simultaneously. Your eyes almost launch out of their sockets, and barely manage to keep a grip on your instrument. "We had no idea," Almondwing mutters. "))No idea about what?" you ask. The squirrel looks up from his pose, and his eyes are filled with tears. "That we are in the presence of the Heir."

You tilt your head in bemusement. "))Wha?"

The Squirrel Chieftain launches from his pose, landing on the chair in front of you and pointing a clawed hand straight at your face. "You, my lord! You are the Heir of Life, the one who is prophesized to save the squirrels from extinction! The one prophesized to bring about an era of prosperity and fertility! The one who will face the warmonger Kratos, and destroy the curse on the Land of Twilight and Bastille!"

You shake your head quickly, throwing your arms out in front of you. "What? No, I'm just an ordinary troll! I'm not some prophesized hero who will save people!" Almongwing's eyes sparkle with joy. "Yes, yes you are. You may not believe it now, but this entire world was made for your eventual arrival. You will free this entire system, and save us from the black monsters from the furthest ring."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically, but sigh and decide to let the issue go. "))Okay, I won't argue. But tzhat doezn't mean I believe you."

"You don't have to right now, Heir. This planet is all the proof you will need."

"))Heh. Zure, I guezz."

"Oh, and thank you for the food, Vallem. We haven't had a fulfilling meal in ages."

"It's no problem. I'm just glad I could help."

"And you did, young one. You did. And we can never thank you enough. Which is why, as according to our duties as the Consorts of the Land of Twilight and Bastille, we will serve you in whatever you desire."

"))ZERVE ME?!" you exclaim. "))No, I can't let you do tzhat." "Why not?" asks Almondwing. You fluster, trying to find any reason why you shouldn't be served by someone willing. You sigh, and give in. Again. These squirrels are really persistent.

The Chieftain smiles, and thumps his small paw on your back. "Oh, cheer up. We're not going to be house servants, who will give you breakfast in bed everyday, no. We'll be assisting you on your World Quest."

"))My what?"

"Your World Quest! According to the stories, the Heir will begin a journey across his planet and throughout the system, interacting with the other heroes and helping them in their own quests, and his in return. His home will reach to the heavens, and he will deliver the final blow against the Black King of the Violet Planet."

"))...Okay, tzhis iz definitely a video game."

"It might be, Heir. But are we simple? Do we not have a soul?"

"))You have a soul, you have a life."

"Then are we any less important than creatures made by normal means?"

"))...no."

"Then let us begin, Vallem."

"Let us begin."

Vallem: Be the Tealblood.

You are now the tealblood.

And goddamn are you fucking hot shit.

Your name is TAZEND LYLGAN. You're a SUPERSTAR, a FASHION MODEL, and an icon to ALTERNIAN POP CULTURE. You have SUITORS pledging to you in ALL QUADRANTS, but you tend to decline all of them because you're still looking for that SPECIAL SOMEONE who will be the only quadrant-filler for you.

Well, you might take up a MOIRALLEGIANCE? but other than that you're still waiting.

You have a talent for FASHION, and you show it off everytime you're in public. You have a LARGE FOLLOWING OF FANS, and you even have SHITTY FANFICTION written about you, which you sometimes take the time to read. Why? Because it's fun to LAUGH AT HOW SHITTY IT IS. You're a troll of SIMPLE PLEASURES.

When you're not STRUTTING DOWN A CATWALK or GRACING CIVILIANS WITH YOUR PRESENCE, you're spending your LARGE SUPPLY OF MONEY on commissioning NEW OUTFITS, donating to CHARITIES YOU SUPPORT, and HAVING EXTRAVAGANT PARTIES where you inevitably get wasted. Your online name is fulfillingQuadrant, and you speak in a way #which_connects_you_to_your_fans!

What will you do?

Tazend: Fuck bitches.

Absolutely.

But not right now, you're letting loose at the end of the world. Jegus christ, this is really fucking cliche. But you don't care, you might just die in this whole thing so why not die drunk?

Tazend: Rescue the civilians.

Uhhhhh… you don't have any civilians, or damsels in distress. Maybe getting drunk wasn't the best idea.

Tazend: Get some civilians.

That seems like a great idea! You stand up, very wobbly, from the kitchen barstool and walk out the door.

Sadly, you seem to have forgotten you live on an island in the Antenna Archipelago, and you plunge over your small balcony into the ocean. Surprised finbeasts swim away in terror, and you sputter as the wind is knocked out of you.

You hope the water will destroy the growing buzz of alcohol in your head. But probably not, you've already chugged three bottles.

Fucking damnit.

You stumble onto the sand, your nice clothes now drenched with salty sea water. You really hope the seadwellers don't get pissed at your brief incursion into their territory.

Tazend: Do a backflip!

In a random, drunken thought you decide to act upon, you scrunch up your legs and launch yourself up and backwards. However, you have almost no physical strength, not to mention your horns catch on the ground. Essentially, you face-plant into the sand.

Why did you do any of that?

Tazend: Describe yourself.

You're really hot.

'Nuff said.

Tazend: Describe yourself non-drunkenly.

You suddenly find yourself in your subconscious, where a more sane part of your personality is waiting out the alcohol. It is the personification of BREATH, the dominant incarnation of the troll Tazend.

Everyone, inside their head, possesses twelve incarnations. Each represents certain personality traits and concepts unique to any sentient species.

**TIME.**

**SPACE.**

**HEART.**

**MIND.**

**HOPE.**

**RAGE.**

**LIFE.**

**DOOM.**

**LIGHT.**

**VOID.**

**BREATH.**

and **BLOOD.**

These twelve incarnations make up a personality, and without exception, one tends to dominate. The dominating aspect can change, and the personality will drastically change with it, but most of the time, the incarnation will remain the same from birth. In this case, you, Tazend, are dominated by the incarnation of BREATH. It gives you the personality traits of independence, individuality, motivation, and adaptability.

In this case, you are no longer merely Tazend. You are Tazend's Breath, but we shall call you TB for the sake of convenience.

Now, what was it that you wanted again?

TB: Describe the mind of your host.

Honestly, you're an awesome dude. But you have trouble being not a spoiled bitch, and you get way too caught up in your money and power in order to be kind. It's only when you get away from the people and the crowds, that's when you show your true colors.

You prefer independence over all else. You're your own boss, without anyone to tie you down or hold you back. Sure, you might be a bit lonely, but you think it's worth it. In fact, you're a bit concerned about everyone else. Why the hell aren't they following the same idealism as you? According to you, they should.

Yea, you can get kinda bossy as well. You're just chock-full of insecurities and issues. Thank whatever gods are out there that you're not actually Tazend, otherwise you never would have admitted it to yourself. Mainly because Tazend's Life (TL) would insist that Tazend knows best, and briefly take the controls from you.

Pushy bitch.

TB: Describe the body of your host.

Sure!

You are, as described many times over, fucking hot. No one can deny you that much. You're not very muscular, but that's not what makes you hot. No, it's your face. Strong jawline, full cheeks, a perfectly rounded nose, the list goes on. You're average height (5'7") making you attractive to a larger variety of trolls. You're halfway to adulthood as well, at 7 sweeps old. And for your horns, they're strange: they jut out from your head upwards, curve outwards slightly, and then split into two seperate branches, the interior one reaching higher than the exterior one.

As for your clothes, you wear a grey vest over a teal-colored polo, your sign based in black on the shoulders. You also tend to wear any colored pair of shitty plastic shades, the ones with the easily breakable bars running across, simply for the irony. That and you don't give a shit about the weird looks you might get.

Yea, that's about it.

Tazend: Get online.

You've stumbled back inside, fighting your disorientation, and you decide to get online. You log on and observe that you have some new messages.

valiantBibliognost[VB] has begun trolling fulfillingQuadrant[FQ].

VB: ~ummm... hello?~

VB: ~you're t4zend, right?~

VB: ~i did th4t p4iring thing, 4nd 4pp4rently i'm supposed to be helping you get into the g4me.~

VB: ~or something.~

VB: ~i'm not much of 4 g4mer girl, so i don't know if i'm doing the right thing...~

VB: ~hello?~

VB: ~ok4y, i'll come b4ck l4ter i guess…~

FQ: #oh_helloooooo!

FQ: #yeap

FQ: #i'mn_tazrend!

VB: ~ummm... 4re you ok4y?~

FQ: #no

FQ: #i'm_drumnkl

VB: ~if i c4n 4sk, why 4re you drunk when your entire life is in d4nger?~

FQ: #i_was_bieng_stiupid

FQ: #can't_realy_defennd_mysaelf_heree

VB: ~4s long 4s you're being honest. 4nyw4y, you re4dy to get off this rock or 4re you w4iting on someone?~

FQ: #well_i_treid_to_get_mei_freinds_tro_come_witth_mee

FQ: #but_it_apppears_that_theyy_have_thier_own_outlkets

VB: ~well 4lright then, i guess th4t's settled. i'll begin pl4cing down what you need.~

VB: ~c4ll it 4 gift from 4nother dimension, it sounds cooler th4t w4y.~

FQ: #hehhehee

FQ: #i_geuss_it_doesa

VB: ~just 4 sec~

A crash emerges from the other blocks in your hive.

VB: ~uhh...~

VB: ~whoops.~

Tazend: Investigate.

You slam into the door of your block, then open it very drunkenly. You stumble out of the room, only to see a white machine that fell into the floorboards. They were clearly not built for the strain of something a few tons or more.

You start to get just a little upset.

"#iff_you_can_haerr_mee_nayersss" you slur, "#thhhen_get_it_owt_off_heer" The machine shudders, and lifts into the air. It vanishes, and you hear a thump this time from outside. You don't want to go back out there in your condition, but you don't have time to sit around. You only have seventeen hours until the world is dead, and less until a meteor lands on your own house.

You're smart enough to take the main exit this time, out onto the back end of the beach. Sand flies into the air as the machines land, and you sputter as a few grains land in your mouth. They begin to emit slight whirs as they power up, green lights flashing on.

You have no idea how to work any of this, but you'll probably figure it out.

Tazend: Summon lusus.

You place your fingers to your lips, and blow. A high-pitched noise emerges, and within seconds, a small shape swoops down from the surrounding palm trees. It is your lusus, whom you have named KHAIDO. Khaido is a rarer breed of lusus, specifically a TWITTERING JACKALOPE. He is always there for you, even in public! Your fans find him absolutely charming and adorable, and he craves the attention in return. You just wish he would care less about being constantly clean.

Tazend: Pet Khaido.

You place your hand on your lusus' soft head, and scritch where you know he likes it best. An ecstatic squeak emerges, and you chuckle. You love that little fucker.

Tazend: Get this show on the road.

You head back inside and scan the instructions from the goldblood. You can't make heads or tails of it, but you think you get the basic idea. Make an item, then use it somehow. Simple.

Yet something tells you it's not going to be that easy.

You sigh in frustration.

Your **BREATH** slightly ruffles the fur on Khaido's head.

Tazend: Be someone else.

You are now someone else. It isn't a troll, however.

Your name is JACK. JACK NOIR. You don't know this, but you are UNLIKE MOST JACKS. In fact, you are doing MUCH BETTER than ANY OTHER JACK IN THE MULTIVERSE. You're a DOUBLE AGENT: you pretend to be the ROYAL ADVISER for the BLACK KING, but actually you are a SPY FOR THE PROSPITAN ROYALTY. You HATE DERSE AND THEIR IDEALS, so you pledged your services to the WHITE QUEEN (who was very kind and hospitable to you) in exchange for AN OFFICIAL PARDON and SIGNIFICANT ROYALTIES after the war was over.

You've realized that, like most DERSITES, you're a HORRIBLE PERSON with a LUST FOR VIOLENCE, and you HATE being put into a STEREOTYPE, which is why, in your SPARE TIME, you take LESSONS on... well, they're on HOW TO BE A GOOD PERSON. You never make much progress, however, as GROWING UP and LIVING in the oppressive environment of THE DERSITE SLUMS really forces any Dersite to CHANGE in order to SURVIVE.

You used to have some VERY HORRIBLE INTERESTS, such as TAKING TROPHIES from the DOUCHEBAGS you killed on the streets. Instead, you've taken up PAINTING. You've met a wonderful lady named MS. PAINT, who, despite your SKETCHY PAST, has been absolutely delighted to teach you HOW TO PAINT, as her nickname implies. Now, the two of you PAINT MURALS commissioned by THE PROSPITAN ROYALTY.

Yeah, you're living the good life.

What will you do?

Jack: Contact "friends."

Ah yes, your "friends." Also known as some of the best Agents of Derse that the violet planet has to offer. You'd like to get them in your scheme to overthrow the Dersite Royalty, but unfortunately they're loyal to the opposite cause. Admitting that you're betraying your home would get you arrested, murdered or exiled, any and all of which would effectively end your uses to the White Queen.

You decide not to contact them. They're fairly smart (except for CD), and just talking to them might give them clues that you're doing something illegal.

Jack: Look around.

You raise your head from the paper you're reading, the crumbs from your sandwich littering the pages. The bright, golden city on Prospit's surface is thriving with activity. The white carapacians are dressed in colorful robes, and they're chatting to each other in their strange language of gestures and body language. Some of them chat in sign language, as it's a common lingua franca between the consorts and carapacians. Some even wave hello, as you're somewhat popular here due to your current attempt at reformation.

You make sure to wave back with a smile. It may not be genuine yet, but your Goodness Instructor has told you that it's still good practice for proper etiquette.

Jack: Inspect Skaia.

You glance up at Skaia. Calm clouds swim through the blue expanse, some flashing with strange visions of the past or future. If you squint, you can just manage to see the Battlefield at its center, rapidly growing and changing as the first of the Heroes begin to arrive.

Jiminy Christmas, has both Prospit and Derse been losing their collective shit over the arrival of the Heroes. Both sides knew it would happen eventually, but no thought it would happen in their time. Yet it did, and now the planets are scrambling for a foothold so they can make a plan of action.

You've already heard from the Prospitans. They intend to protect the sleeping forms of the Prospitan Heroes from Agents of Derse, who will most likely attempt to kill them. They have no idea what to do about the Heroes on Derse's moon, however. You haven't been back to the violet planet yet, so you weren't able to spill any gameplans or secrets.

You told the Royalty that you'll return after you finish the latest commission, which is what you're currently working on.

The Mural itself is, coincidentally, the twelve heroes. The Prophetic Clouds have already told much about them. They would amass an incredible army, like never before seen in the Incipisphere, which not even the Black King's army of underlings could counter.

Each Hero would have an important role: The Heir, the internally strong and caring leader of the twelve. The Rouge, who would give truth, emotion and purpose to any fight. The Thief, a master of trickery and deceit who worked behind the scenes.

The Knight, who would never stop fighting as long as there was a cause to believe in. The Prince, who would break the rules of the universe, even that of death. The Witch, who would serve to unite the army and the inhabitants of the Incipisphere under a common banner.

The Mage, who would use dark and powerful magics to learn the best-kept of secrets. The Page, who would bend the strength of souls to their will. The Bard, who would seem without purpose until he began to learn.

The Sylph, who would light the way to true freedom. The Seer, an avid strategist who would know everything the universe had to offer. And lastly, the Maid, who would show the uninformed who they really were.

Of course, it wasn't just the twelve. They all seem to be depicted in front of a strange light, who was like them, yet was not. An outsider, who they would accept as one of their own. A beyonder.

...fucking hell, you got lost in your thoughts there. These happy-go-lucky Prospitans are getting to you.

Jack: Work on the mural.

Might as well, your lunch break is over anyway. You finish the last bites of your sandwich, and pick up your painting apparatus once again.

Your brush swipes a line of dark pink across the golden wall.

Jack: Be the fuschiablood.

You are now a very stylish-looking seadweller. Their face is covered in makeup, even though no one is around to see it. And for some reason, in a block full of flashing lights, they're dancing.

They twirl around, hands and feet moving all over the place, launching different directions in accordance to the beat. It's graceful, and stylush. They're too caught up in the song blaring through the room in order to notice you're observing however. Their eyes are closed in concentration, small beads of sweat flying off as he spins.

Wait… shit. Guess the jig's up.

Your name is JERIAX VALERN. You are NOT the HEIRESS APPARENT, you're the HEIR APPARENT. You were born MALE, as a GENETIC MUTATION. You're not supposed to EXIST. Yet you do, simply because the JADEBLOODS mistook you for A FEMALE. You were lucky you were born VERY FEMENINE-LOOKING, in that case.

You've had to spend YOUR ENTIRE LIFE pretending to be FEMALE, you're honestly SICK OF IT. The GIRLY CLOTHES, the MAKEUP, the FAKE VOICE. It DISGUSTS you. You just want to BE YOU, not the PERSONALITY you've been forced to CULTIVATE. You just hope that no one will ASK YOU TO LEAD once you get into THE GAME, as YOU'RE NOT CUT OUT FOR THAT.

When you're not making PUBLIC APPEARANCES, you're practicing your HOBBIES. You love to DANCE to ALL TYPES OF MUSIC, and you would show it off if not for YOUR FEAR OF BEING ON STAGE. It's one thing to have people ADORE YOU ON THE STREETS, it's another to be in a QUIET AMPHITHEATER with everyone JUDGING YOU. You're also, like most goldbloods, really good at CODING. Everything just MAKES SENSE TO YOU, and coding is just a PUZZLE, WAITING TO BE SOLVED. You want something? Place the RIGHT LETTERS with THE RIGHT SYNTAX, in order to get the RIGHT RESULT. Easy!

Your online name is decietfulAquatic, and you speak in a way wh1ch sh0ws 0ff y0ur c0d1ng pr0wess!

What will you do?

Jeriax: Show off to an imaginary audience.

You smile and clap twice above your head. Your incredible strength, due to being a fuschiablood, makes it resound through the very foundations of your hive and into the surrounding waters. A pearly white tentacle emerges from a tube in the ceiling, and a fuschia-colored eye opens from the side of the appendage, inquisitively looking around.

You speak in the unique language of your lusus (Glubese). Essentially, you say the word "glub" repeatedly at your lusus, Gl'bgolyb, also known as the Speaker of the Vast Glub. The eye blinks in affirmation, and gently taps a few times on your tablet, which you've hooked up to the sound system in the block. The music suddenly changes to a beautiful ballet sonata, and you smile with joy. This particular one you danced to a lot in your childhood. You run over, hug the slimy tentacle, and rush back to the dance floor.

And you begin to dance. You leap and spin, as the cellos and basses pluck and play their songs. You might open your eyes every once in a while, in order to check your bearings in accordance to the edges of the block. The lights fly by in a blur of color, and your smile widens across your cheeks.

The final notes begin to increase in tempo, and you pull yourself into a final spin. Your foot presses against your leg, and your other foot stands on the mere nubs. The violas repeat a few seconds of tune, over and over, before being drowned out by a trio of accented notes from the combined orchestra, layered with the bass drum and the crash cymbals. The movement is complete.

You promptly trip and fall out of extreme dizziness. Yet you're laughing, and you're happy.

Because you're safe.

No longer do you have to worry about the threat of culling by drone, because you're in a completely different universe. No longer do you have to worry about keeping Gl'bgolyb fed and happy, because she is home in the Furthest Ring. And lastly, you no longer have to fulfill your role of Emperor.

Nor do you want to, if Ancestors really influence the destiny of their descendants as it is said they do.

Your ancestor was a notorious Emperor, known as HIS IMPERIAL RADIANCE among the highbloods, and THE DICTATOR among the lowbloods. He was the one to start the ideal of complete control over all citizens, and the one who began the Hemospectrum Philosophy. He was ruthless, egotistical, and cruel. He truly believed that nothing could defeat him, even after the majority of the population rebelled against him.

Which is why he was assassinated by who would come to be known as THE REGICIDE.

The Condesce ascended to the throne directly after him. There are rumours that she let the Regicide into the Royal Palace in order to take care of her competition for her, but it is unconfirmed.

He did believe that he was doing the right thing, however. And to some degree, you agree with him. You endorse the ideals of the hemospectrum, but not in the way your ancestor created. Highbloods are supposed to use their strength and abilities to help the lowbloods, not cull them for existing.

If you had been forced to take the throne, you would have helped change the system. But you definitely would NOT have challenged the Condesce for it, seeing as she would have killed your ass easily.

Jeriax: Head outside.

Might as well. You unplug your tablet from the speaker system and exit through the airlock. You make sure to seal the door behind you, and then the small room is flooded with water. To your surprise, it's freshwater. Before you have time to do anything, the outer door opens and you're carried into the darkened waters around your hive.

Jeriax: Look around.

The waters aren't very clear, as though you might be very far down in the ocean. However, the water pressure isn't suffocating, so you have no idea if this is the truth. Small specks of light shine through the inky blackness, giving the planet an eerie feel. There are a few fish around, but they're very infrequent.

Jeriax: Look at your hive.

You glance backwards. Your hive, before you left, had been based in a coral reef. There had been a small mountain at its center, full of life. You had summoned the drones, and without disturbing the natural ecosystem, created a beautiful, spiraling tower. Now, it seems almost devoid of it's color in the darkness. It stands upon a steel pillar of jagged rock, rising up from the darkness below.

It seems sad, almost.

And intimidating, seeing as your monstrous-sized lusus is resting around the stone pillar below. It's a white, rolling sea of tentacles. You always seem to forget how scary your lusus can be.

Jeriax: Swim to the surface.

You look upward, and it does seem slightly lighter in that direction. You make sure that nothing you have on would weigh you down, and then remove your shoes to reveal the standard webbed feet of seadwellers. You kick off, creating an underwater sonic boom as it moves. The bubbles vanish in seconds, as the water seems to be getting murky and darker. Slowly, the light increases, and you shield your eyes for a second.

Oh.

It's a croakbeast.

The brightly glowing amphibian seems startled by your presence, and swims away. You see plenty of other glowing dots in the distance, which must have been the reason for the slight increase of light.

And now you have no clue how to get back. Damnit.

The croakbeasts have taken interest in you, however. They swim closer, ribbiting to each other in warning of the intruder. One swims up to your face, its eyes blank and unfearing. The tongue extends, and gently plaps onto your nose. You laugh in amusement, and you pat the creature on the head. The frogs seem to be very comfortable with your presence after that, and soon you're being tickled by a small army of glowing amphibians.

This land might be creepy, and… well, wrong-seeming, but you think it's going to be okay.

This new world will be the perfect **SPACE** to grow.

The Land of Depth and Frogs churns with agreement.

Jeriax: Be the final troll.

You gaze upon a world of radiance and earth. Arches of rock soar through the sky, covered in a rainbow of crystals. The same rainbow coats the ground, large and small, replacing the flora a normal world might have had. Most of them tend to be yellow and orange, however. Meanwhile, some of the arches aren't arches at all. Instead, they're structures, reaching into the heavens with spires, battlements and flags. At their bases, the dungeons have been unearthed and converted into bustling towns for the native people: the Swinekind, who prefer dirty living conditions.

You're walking through their makeshift city, interacting with the common people, buying delicious food. And you're enjoying every second of it.

Your name is FIRRIN OGATHI. And according to these adorable OINKBEASTS, you're the **MAID OF LIGHT.**

You're an EXPLORER, built for ADVENTURE, and a NOMAD, never staying in one place for any EXTENDED PERIOD OF TIME. Once you learned of your SOCIETAL ROLE and the EXPECTATIONS ASSOCIATED WITH IT, you decided to LIVE YOUR LIFE TO THE FULLEST before you're eternally confined to THE BROODING CAVERNS.

You have a FEW INTERESTS, but you don't think you'll have time to work on them. THE GAME is more important, and the sooner you ADVANCE THROUGH THE OBJECTIVES, the safer it will be for the trolls entering with THE OTHERS.

So far, you've already progressed significantly. Your SPRITE has significantly built up your HIVE. You've discovered the ALCHEMIZATION SYSTEM, and crafted some USEFUL GEAR. Your favorite thing so far is your NEW WEAPON. You use the SCYTHEKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS, because it was much easier to cut through FOLIAGE with that than a MACHETE. Plus, it was more elegant. Anyway, combining your SCYTHE and a rare RAINBOW CRYSTAL you found on the planet, you alchemized the "DWARVEN REAPER." Very sharp, and slices through even the ORCS with ease.

Your online name is wildernessIntrepid, and you speak in a way _which ieou feel makes ieou seem more intelligent!_

What will you do?

Firrin: Demonstrate powers.

You've found that your level of progression influences how fast you gain your powers. Since you've progressed farther than everyone else, your powers have manifested quicker. They're very minor for right now, however. But you'll try to use them anyway.

You decide to focus on the INFORMATION side of your aspect. You press your hands together, and concentrate. A small light manifests in your palms, and you're suddenly filled with knowledge on Swinekind culture. Useful!

Firrin: Check on Vallem.

You press a button on your glasses, and the lenses fill with the various chat rooms you have open. You open the messages you have with the bluebie, and turn on your auto-transcriber. You also open the SGRUB Feed showing what he's doing.

wildernessIntrepid[WI] has begun trolling melodicApostle[MA].

WI: _Heia bluebie! Long time no see!_

MA: ))Oh! Hello tzhere!

MA: ))Um… should I call you Firrin now?

WI: _Onlie if ieou want to!_

MA: ))Yea, I tzhink I want to. It zeemz proper, and more natural, to call you by your real name ratzher tzhen "Jadeblooded Friend."

WI: _Heehee! In that case, I'll start calling you Vallem!_

MA: ))I don't have any objectionz, lol.

MA: ))Zo how have you been?

WI: _Making significant progress on my end of the game._

WI: _I've alreadie managed to learn of a few important objectives, through dialogue with mie sprite and using mie powers._

MA: ))I didn't know jadebloods had powerz.

WI: _We don't. This is another game concept, where we are all assigned "miethologocal roles" and we get powers based off of these roles._

WI: _For example, I am the Maid of Light. These roles have two parts: the Class and the Aspect. The Maid Aspect creates and manifests the aspect, and Light has domain over knowledge, luck, and of course, light!_

MA: ))Woah! Tzhat's incredible! I azzume tzhat's how you've learned all about your clazz and azpect? Tzhrough your powerz?

WI: _Iep!_

WI: _Saie, have you been called aniething? Like mine?_

MA: ))I have, actually. I'm the Heir of Life.

WI: _Okaie, give me a tick._

WI: _Hrrrrrng..._

WI: _Ah-ha! Okaie, I have what ieou need to know._

WI: _The Heir is a manipulation class. Basicallie, it will allow ieou to invite change in ieour aspect._

WI: _Ieou might have a hard time controlling it, as the Heir is a passive class. That means ieou do this manipulation without a great deal of control._

WI: _Your emotions might affect ieour powers a great deal, so keep an eie on that._

WI: _Now for ieour aspect, Life. That has dominion over energie, birth, growth, and restoration. So yea, you can manipulate the energies of aniething around you. People, plants, animals, consorts, even ieourself!_

MA: ))WWWWOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAHH!

WI: _Heehee! Iea, your powers are more based on phiesical manipulation rather than mie mental-based ones. Except for luck, that could have phiesical benefits._

MA: ))Holy moley, I need to progrezz AZAP! I need my powerz!

WI: _Slow your roll! I still want to chat with mie friend, numbnuts!_

MA: ))Oh, uh, hehe. Zorry.

MA: ))Zo, what elze have you learned?

MA: ))Regarding tzhe game, I mean.

WI: _Some of the objectives. This game will move forward without us, and we need to be prepared. There will be an event called THE RECKONING, which will determine if our progression continues. A great battle between light and darkness, and determining the fate of this session._

WI: The timer currentlie sits at… a few weeks.

MA: ))Tzhen we'll be prepared. We may have lozt Alternia, but we will not loze thiz zezzion.

MA: ))I promize.

WI: _Can ieou reallie promise that?_

MA: ))...no.

MA: ))But…

MA: ))I juzt have a feeling, you know?

MA: ))We won't fail.

MA: ))We're going to zecure the future for all the trollz entering.

MA: ))I juzt know it.

* * *

**Aaaaand that concludes Chapter 2. Almost all of the main characters have been introduced, but more will definitely arrive later. The next chapter will be focusing on the talks and chats between the characters, as well as the trolls getting to know each other. And before you ask, yes, there will be quite a few ships. Place your bets now, folks!**

**Thanks for reading!  
****-Ravens of Odin**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Communications**


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Communications**

melodicApostle[MA] has created a memo.

MA has named the memo "Important Info".

MA has annexed benevolentNightmare[BN] into the conversation.

MA has annexed interstellarXenologist[IX] into the conversation.

MA has annexed valiantBibliognost[VB] into the conversation.

MA has annexed sanctifiedMercenary[SM] into the conversation.

MA has annexed adroitlyInsidious[AI] into the conversation.

MA has annexed wildernessIntrepid[WI] into the conversation.

MA has annexed fulfillingQuadrant[FQ] into the conversation.

MA has annexed dramaticFixture[DF] into the conversation.

MA has annexed winsomeSpecture[WS] into the conversation.

MA has annexed sharpenedAntithesis[SA] into the conversation.

MA has annexed deceitfulAquatic[DA] into the conversation.

MA: ))*MA sitz in a comfortable chair, gazing dramatically into the fireplazce.*

MA: ))*He turnz towardz the entrance, and noticzez eleven vizitorz in his ztudy.*

MA: ))Well hello, I didn't zee you tzhere. Come in, let'z have a converzation by tzhe fire.

VB: ~*the goldblood enters the room completely, putting her h4nds on her hips in 4n intimid4ting st4nce.*~

VB: ~4nd what might we converse 4bout, blueblood? highbloods like yourself don't 4lw4ys h4ve the best interests of the popul4ce in mind.~

MA: ))Okay, ending tzhat little RP segment tzhere.

MA: ))Let it be known tzhat I DO NOT conform to tzhe hemozpectrum. Juzt becauze I am a blueblood doez not mean I'm zome cazteizt azzhole.

VB: ~well th4t's good to know.~

WI: _Seriouslie, I've known him for a bunch of sweeps and he's never even said one rude thing to anieone about their blood._

WI: _It's quite liberating, and unique, to talk to a highblood without receiving scorn or hatred._

SM: ((sounds like my kind of highblood…))

SM: ((...you know, one who will treat us "freaks of nature" with a bit of respect…))

MA: ))Yez, of courze. I wazn't raized to be a douchebag, thankz to my luzuz. He'z a bumblebird, and their queen livez with me. I was taught how to be a noble, without being cruel or mean, thankz to her.

WS: AWWWWWW! THAT'$ ADORABL€!

WS: OH, THAT'$ RIGHT, I HAV€N'T INTRODU¢€D MY$E£₣ ¥ET.

WS: M¥ NAM€ I$ AR$UNN!

MA: ))Good to meet you.

MA: ))Now, can we move on with tzhis? I created tzhis memo for a reazon!

DA: Bef0re we d0 that, can 1 d0 s0meth1ng qu1ck?

MA: ))Ummmm… zure?

DA: Thank y0u f0r the perm1ss10n t0 hack the c0mputers 0f all 0f y0u!

WI: _What?!_

deceitfulAquatic has closed the memo.

* * *

Alert! You have new alerts for TROLLIAN pending. Would you like to update now?

Y/Y?

Y

Updating…

Done! Trollian v6.12 successfully installed!

* * *

CURRENT deceitfulAquatic [CDA] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board 01DER VERS10N 1S BETTER!.

CDA: Ta-da! We1c0me t0 the vers10n of Tr0111an fr0m twenty sweeps ag0, and 1s by far the best 0ne.

CDA: Why, you ask?

CDA: 1t's because th1s ed1t1on c0u1d fuck w1th t1me and space, a110w1ng y0u t0 resp0nd t0 a mem0 fr0m ANY p01nt 1n t1me. Days 1n the past, weeks 1n the future. Y0u c0u1d have mu1t1p1e vers10ns 0f y0urse1f 0n 0ne mem0! H0w awes0me 1s that?

FUTURE interstellarXenologist [FIX] FIVE HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FIX: *i would h*ve preferred th*t you h*dn't done th*t*

FIX: *it took my shitty computer*

FIX: *five*

FIX: *fucking*

FIX: *hours*

FIX: *to downlo*d*

FIX: *but *t le*st i c*n still be present*

CDA: 0h yeah, s1ster! N0t everyth1ng 0ld 1s terr1b1e!

CDA: Y0u c0u1d a1so say thank-y0u t0 my 1ncred1b1e hack1ng sk111s f0r br1ng1ng th1s t0 y0u.

CDA: Y0u're we1c0me.

FUTURE dramaticFixture [FDF] THREE MINUTES FROM NOW responded to memo.

FDF: (: JEGUSS CHRISST, NEVER FUCKING DAW THAT AGAIN. ):

CDA: N0w 1'm tempted t0 d0 1t aga1n. ;)

FIX: *ple*se no*

CDA: 0h d0n't w0rry sweet1e, 1 was 0n1y g01ng t0 d0 1t t0 h1m.

FDF: (: FUCK YAWU. ):

CURRENT melodicApostle [CMA] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

CMA: ))My entire interfaze haz changed! Tzhiz might take zome getting uzed to.

CMA: ))Aaaaaaanyway, now tzhat TZHAT iz out of the way, I'll begin.

CMA: ))If I remember correctly, everyone haz made it into tzhe game, pazzengerz and all?

FUTURE wildernessIntrepid [FWI] TWENTY MINUTES FROM NOW responded to memo.

FWI: _Iep, that's right. I did a series of checks, and luckilie the IUC (Information Usefulness Chart) said that the information I requested was just unimportant enough for me to summon it.

CDA: Summ0n 1t?

CMA: ))I'll go over thzta in a minute.

CMA: ))*ahem* Now that we have a zeriez of burdenz to take care of, we need to up our game. In caze you haven't notized, tzhis iz no longer juzt a game. Tzhiz iz life and death.

CMA: ))Failure meanz the extinction of tzhe troll raze.

FUTURE valiantBibliognost [FVB] THIRTY-NINE SECONDS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FVB: ~w4y to put it bluntly. ≈:/~

CMA: ))Am I wrong?

FVB: ~...no.~

CMA: ))Tzhen let'z move on.

CMA: ))Now, tzhis firzt zegment will cover tzhe information we have learned about tzhis game. We are alzo alwayz learning more, thankz to Firrin.

CMA: ))Firzt tzhingz firzt. Az we progrezz tzhrough tzhis game, we will begin to accumulate powerz tzhat we could never do before.

FIX: *wh*t kind of powers*

CDA: Yes, 1'm qu1te 1nterested 1n th1s as well.

FWI: _It will depend entirelie on ieour personalitie. Everieone is assigned a "miethilogical role" comprised of a Class and an Aspect. The Aspect determines what domain ieour powers will rule over, and the Class determines how ieou will interact with ieour domain._

FWI: _It will sound something like "blank" of "blank."_

FWI: _For example, I am the Maid of Light, while bluebie over here is the Heir of Life._

CURRENT sanctifiedMercenary [CSM] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

CSM: ((so how will we learn these names...?))

CMA: ))You'll mozt likely meet zome zort of zmall creature. Tzhey are very intelligent, and can zpeak. Tzhey are the onez who will give you your rolez. Tzhey are known az "conzorts."

CSM: ((...i haven't met my own yet... do all of us have consorts...?))

FWI: _Ies. I checked._

CMA: ))You will find tzheze conzortz eventually. You only need to look.

CMA: ))Moving back to your powerz, tzhey will be very... inzignificant at firzt. For example, my powerz involve that of manipulating energiez and tzhe lifeformz around me. Currently, I can only give creaturez and plantz zmall burztz of energy and wash away tzhe tirednezz.

CDA: Essent1a11y, 1t w1ll be up to us t0 d1sc0ver and 1earn h0w t0 use 0ur new p0wers?

CMA: ))Yez, exactly! I ztill have no clue az to my eventual limitz, but I'll figure it out az I go along.

FWI: _Next up, the crafting siestem._

FVB: ~wh4t's 4 cr4fting system?~

FWI: _...Ieou're new to video games, aren't ieou?_

FVB: ~unfortun4tely.~

FWI: _Okaie, so manie games have a crafting siestem, where plaiers can make new and improved weapons, armor, and gear as theie progress._

FWI: _Other games have a collectible siestem, where ieou find the gear as ieou unlock new levels and challenges.

FWI: _SGRUB is both. Ieou can find weapons and armor all across ieour planet, but it is possible to make better ones using the crafting siestem._

FWI: _The siestem, unlike some other games, is extremelie unique. It is possible to craft an unlimited amount of items, as long as you have any two items to combine._

FWI: Ieou can take anie hivehold items, combine them, and make something new. It can be completelie useless, or verie useful. It all depends on what ieou combine.

FWI: _For example, I took mie sciethe, which is mie strife specibus weapon, and combined it with a gem unique to mie planet, as a rare drop of sorts. It created an extremelie sharp, rainbow criestal sciethe. It's verie prettie._

PAST winsomeSpectre [PWS] TEN SECONDS AGO responded to memo.

PWS: $O THI$ ¢OU£D B€ £IT€RA££Y AN¥THING, NO QU€$TION$ A$K€D?

FWI: _Just one question, actuallie: do ieou have the amount of grist required to make it?_

FWI: _Grist is the main resource in this game, and onlie one ieou'll need._

FWI: _The most basic grist, known as "build grist," is the onlie thing ieou'll need for low-level alchemizations. That's the offical term for the combining process, bie the waie._

FWI: However, alchemizing more powerful items requires more and more grist, most likelie dipping into the weirder and stranger types, such as diamond, marble, uranium, and iodine._

FUTURE benevolentNightmare [FBN] THREE HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FBN: WHY SH-UL- I CARE AB-UT GETTING ALL THIS "GRIST?"

FBN: I'M PERFECTLY HAPPY WITH MY CURRENT WEAP-N.

FWI: _What if I told ieou that ieour weapon could get twenty times stronger with just one, well-done alchemization?_

FBN: ...I'M INTERESTE-.

PAST adroitlyInsidious [PAI] FOUR MINUTES AGO responded to memo.

PAI: okay so iv figurd out how to do that allrady

PAI: but thats not what im concrnd about

PAI: evryon sms to fucking hat us hr

PAI: spcialllly th consorts

PAI: any tips

FWI: _What's the name of ieour planet again?_

PAI: th lland of neon and chao-

PAI: oooooooooooohhhhhhhh

FWI: _Perfect time to introduce the next subject. Vallem, if ieou would?

CMA: ))Zure.

CMA: ))On every planet, tzhere should be zome zort of "world quest," which iz one of tzhe ultimate goalz of tzhis game.

CMA: ))Mozt of tzhe time, what tzhis goal iz iz unclear until you azk around. For exzample, I had no idea tzhat I waz zuppozed to zave my conzorts from extinction until tzhey told me. My planet haz very limited amountz of food and water, and I azzume I'm zuppozed to fix it zomehow.

FUTURE sharpenedAntithesis [FSA] TEN DAYS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FSA: You m/\ke it sound /\s though it's h/\rd to find the quest.

FBN: H-LY FUCK. H-W'S THE FUTURE, SEA-WELLER?

FSA: Limited progress. we're /\ll fucking tr/\pped on the Heir's pl/\net. \/ery /\nnoying. Now, we're trying to fix the issue so we c/\n go on with the g/\me.'

CMA: ))What'z tzhe izzue witzh my planet?

FSA: Wrong Heir, blueblood.

FIX: *wh*t other heir is there*

FSA: Fuck off, shitblood. I /\in't spoiling /\nything.

FDF: (: YAWU FUCK YAOFF. ):

FDF: (: WE GAWT BIGGER FUCKING PRAWBLEMSS THAN WHICH HEIR ISS WHICH, WE HAVE TAW FIND A WAY YAOUT YAOF THISS FUCKING GAME! ):

FSA: Good point. Pretend I ne\/er existed. /\ctually, let me do you /\ favor. I'\/e been w/\iting ten d/\ys to do this.

PAST sharpenedAntithesis [PSA] TEN MINUTES AGO responded to memo.

PSA: -idiots /\re communic/\ting with /\ future \/ersion of me, /\nd... hold on, wh/\t the hell is going on with my computer?

PSA: W/\it /\ fucking minute! Who the hell turned on my fucking /\uto-tr/\nsl/\tor?!

FSA: Heheh, see y/\\.

FSA has stoppped responding to memo.

PSA: D/\mnit, how the hell did I get that /\wesome in the future.

PAI: probablly by not making a vry crpy vido llog about our convos

PSA: Shut the fuck up, l/\nddweller. I was t/\lking to the only other troll th/\t m/\tters. Jeri/\x, I'm not creepy, right?

CDA: Br0ther, 1 d0n't even kn0w y0ur name and y0u're way 0ff the creep charts.

PSA: Fuck.

FBN: HEHEHEHEHEH

CSM: ((okay, that was pretty funny.))

PWS: VIRTUA££¥ UP TOP, $€ADW€££€R!

CDA: Awwwww yea!

FUTURE fulfillingQuadrant [FFQ] ONE DAY FROM NOW responded to memo.

FFQ: #okay_okay_im_here

FFQ: #what_did_i_miss

CDA: L1tera11y n0th1ng. Scro11 up 1n the chat.

FFQ: #huh

FFQ: #well_that's_useful

CDA: R11111GHT?!

CMA: ))Can we PLEAZE get back on topic?

CDA: 0h, f1ne, gl0r10us leader.

CMA: ))Um... I'm definitely not a leader, zo pleaze don't call me tzhat.

FVB: ~why 4ren't you 4 le4der?~

FVB: ~i see no re4son why you 4ren't c4p4ble.~

FVB: ~then 4g4in, i h4ven't seen 4ny re4sons why you 4re...~

CMA: ))Well, for ztarterz, I am NOT a "people perzon."

CMA: ))I waz pretty lonely az a wriggler, and I did not get out much.

CMA: ))And whenever I waz forzed to interact witzh otzher trollz, I ended up zaying zometzhing weird and I kinda zcared them off.

CMA: ))Nexzt, I have no idea how to lead!

CMA: ))Zo yea. Not me.

FDF: (: YA KNAW, I CAWULD ALWAYSS LEAD YAWU IMBICILESS.

CDA: B1111g n0.

FIX: *no ch*nce indigo*

PWS: H, €, DOUB£€ £! N TO TH€ O... H€££ NO!

PAI: i woulld rather b llad by a woolly moo-bast

PAI: *beast

FBN: NEVER IN MY LIFE.

FWI: _Census saies: no._

FDF (: YAOKAY, YAOKAY, FUCK YAOFF.

CMA: ))Heheh. Wait... shit, can we get back on topic now?!

FWI: _Iea, let's continue. There's still a few more things to discuss._

CMA: ))For exzample, the rolez we will play in tzhis game. Apparently, zome of uz have VERY important rolez in regardz to completing the game.

CMA: ))We weren't able to get exzactly which people were needed from Firrin'z powerz, or what tzheze rolez are, but we know tzhey exist. I azzume we'll be learning over time.

PSA: These will be roles beyond the roles gi\/en to us by our powers, correct?

CMA: ))Mozt likely, yez.

PSA: God I hope I get one.

CSM: ((why, so you can lord it over the rest of us...?))

PSA: Just bec/\use you s/\id th/\t, I just might.

FFQ: #alright_alright

FFQ: #save_your_blackrom_for_somewhere_private

PSA: Ye/\, no. St/\y out of this.

CSM: ((getting scolded by a filthy landdweller...?))

CSM: ((...that's gotta hurt.))

PSA: Getting insulted by /\ disgusting limeblood, who's NOT SUPPOSED TO EXIST, hurts much worse.

CSM: (( :( ))

FWI: _Ugh. I'm stopping this by introducing the next subject: the end goal._

FWI: _While we have no idea what this goal is, we do know it has something to do with the "Speaker of the Vast Croak."_

FWI: _Supposedlie, it's a gigantic croakbeast who will release "The Vast Croak," which will bring intense smiles and joie to all who hear it._

PWS: THAT $OUND$ AMAZING!

FIX: *i *gree*

FIX: ** celesti*l cro*kbe*st definitely piques my interest*

FWI: _He... yes, HE, will kinda just pop into existence at some point._

FWI: _The details are sketchie._

FVB: ~is there going to be 4nything else involved with the spe4ker of the v4st cro4k?~

FWI: _There is something called "The Forge" involved with the birth of said croakbeast. Other than that, nada._

CDA: Th1ngs rea11y are sketchy.

CDA: 0kay, 1s that a11 there 1s t0 discuss?

CMA: ))Tzhere's ztill one lazt tzhing.

CMA: ))Tzhe matter of our pazzengerz.

CMA: ))I need a headcount from any who brought along trollz.

CSM: ((we already did that, and we have... about eight thousand trolls.))

FDF: (: JEGUS FUCKING CHRISST! ):

FFQ: #your_place_must_be_gigantic

CSM: ((it's a complete labyrinth at signless hq))

CSM: ((trademarks pending))

PAI: lloll

PAI: anyway, w hav trolllls too, but not narlly as many

PAI: spcificalllly two hundrd and thirty nin

PSA: I brought /\long some of my se/\dweller /\llies. There's nine of us, including me.

FBN: -H B-Y, M-RE -UCHEBAGS.

FBN: WE'RE N-T G-ING TO SURVIVE THIS GAME, ARE WE?

PSA: These /\re highly respected /\nd respect/\ble \/ioletbloods we're t/\lking /\bout, they will prove their uses.

CSM: ((...just like how you're highly respectable?))

PSA: I'm sorry, is some insignific/\nt limeblood t/\lking to me? No? Th/\t's wh/\t I thought.

FDF: (: CAN BAWTH YAOF YAWU SSTAWP YAWUR CALIGINAWUSS FLIRTING NAWW? IT'S FUCKING ):

FDF: (: NNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSTYYYYYYYYY. ):

CMA: ))Az much az I hate to zay it, I agree with tzhe Indigo. We need to continue tzhe headcount.

CDA: Unf0rtunate1y, 1 c0u1dn't br1ng any0ne a10ng. Ya kn0w, be1ng underwater and a11.

FFQ: #i_brought_along_about_twenty_people_who_lived_near_me

FWI: _What about ieou, Rauvar?_

FDF: (: NAW YAONE. I TRIED TAW BRING PEAWPLE ALAWNG, BUT THEY HAD THEIR YAOWN YAOUTLETSS. ):

CMA: ))Tzhen tzhat'z everyone who could have brought trollz along. We have a lot of people to take care of and work to do.

CMA: ))Hey uhhh… Kepros?

CSM: ((...khepri.))

CMA: ))Zorry, I'm not good with names either. Anyway, what doez your planet look like?

CSM: ((from what we've explored, very enclosed... it's basically a massive series of underground biomes and tunnels.))

CSM: ((...this is the land of caverns and change, after all.))

CSM: ((the "change" bit is very annoying... it makes these "caverns" constantly morph and turn into completely new areas.))

CSM: ((...very frustrating for mapping and navigation.. the first scouting party left nearly a day ago, and they only just returned... said it was because they got lost.))

CSM: ((i repeat, "it's a complete labyrinth at signless hq"))

PWS: H€€H€€!

PWS: OH, THAT'$ RIGHT! I BROUGHT $OM€ TRO££$ A£ONG TOO! I RUN A BIG GAMING ¢OMPAN¥, WITH A BIG TOW€R THAT U$€D TO B€ IN ¢IT¥-79. TH€ $AM€ ¢IT¥ WH€R€ KH€PRI PO$T€D TH€ $IGN£€$$' ANNOUN¢€M€NT. WHI£€ I DIDN'T TAK€ IN AN¥ OUT$ID€R$, I BROUGHT A£ONG A££ €MP£O¥€€S IN M¥ TOW€R, WHICH I$ ABOUT A THOU$AND TRO££$.

FWI: _So that makes for about nine thousand trolls. Ohhhh boy._

CDA: Th1s 1s g01ng t0 be d1ff1cult.

FBN: N- SHIT TR-LL SHERLOCK, WHERE'- Y-U C-ME UP WITH THAT -NE?

PAI: okay stfu vryone

PAI: w got shit to do

PAI: for those who got trollll companions

PAI: find a sourc of food and water

PAI: specialllly you, khp-master

CSM: ((khep what now?))

PAI: dosn't fuckin matter

PAI: find a way to fiid thos hungry brothrs and sistrs

PAI: w also gotta find a way to gt to on anothr in prson

PAI: ya know, find a way to gt from pllant to pllant

PAI: *pllanet

PAI: llastly, just gt to progrssin and quick so w can figur shit out soonr

PAI: trollvngrs assmbl

[PAI] ceased responding to memo.

CMA: ))Welp, you heard tzhe lady. Let'z move.

CDA: Agreed!

CDA banned FBN from responding to memo.

CDA banned FIX from responding to memo.

CDA banned FVB from responding to memo.

CDA banned CSM from responding to memo.

CDA banned FWI from responding to memo.

CDA banned FFQ from responding to memo.

CDA banned CMA from responding to memo.

CDA banned FDF from responding to memo.

CDA banned PWS from responding to memo.

CDA banned PSA from responding to memo.

CDA closed memo.

* * *

valiantBibliognost [VB] has begun trolling melodicApostle [MA].

VB: ~hey, uh, v4llem?~

MA: ))Yez, Naeryz?

VB: ~i uh... re4lly w4nted to 4pologize for being rude 4nd for jumping to conclusions at the beginning of tod4y's memo.~

MA: ))Apologize? Tzhink notzhing of it. I know my cazte doesn't have tzhe bezt connotationz, which iz what I am... waz ztriving to change.

MA: ))Juzt... know tzhat I am a highblood in blood color alone.

VB: ~f4ir enough! ≈:)~

VB: ~4nyw4y, i h4d 4 few questions.~

MA: ))Zure.

VB: ~YOU'RE INTO ROLE-PL4YONG TOO?! ≈:D~

MA: ))I dabble. I played a while ago, with some randoz I found on tzhe interwebz. It didn't lazt long, however, zeeing az tzhis waz never an in-perzon tzhing.

VB: ~so you know 4ll the rules, then?~

MA: ))More or lezz.

VB: ~...then c4n we pl4y sometime? when you're free, of course. oooooh, m4ybe we can get other trolls in on it 4s well!

MA: ))Well, I wouldn't be oppozed to tzhe idea.

VB: ~4lright! th4t does bring up the question of who will cloud the fl4rping session.~

MA: ))Not me tzhen. I barely have a shred of FLARPING experience, so I wouldn't know how to cloud to zpare my life.

VB: ~heheh! ye4, i don't w4nt to cloud either. i much prefer to be 4 pl4yer!~

VB: ~so now it's just 4 m4tter of finding more pl4yers. eh, we'll find them eventu4lly. we have more import4nt things to de4l with. like, for ex4mple, how we're going to 4ctu4lly GET to e4ch other.~

MA: ))Oh! I actually did manage to figure tzhat one out.

VB: ~do tell.~

MA: ))Are you by your hive right now?

VB: ~of course! how else would i be on my computer?~

MA: ))On a huzktop, perhapz?

VB: ~well, ye4, i guess there's that. but wh4tever, why do i h4ve to be ne4r my house?

MA: ))Go outzide, then look above the plaze.

VB: ~you t4lking 4bout those weird flo4ting rings?~

MA: ))I am! Thoze are the Zeven Gatez, each of which will take you to zomeplaze relevent to you.

MA: ))Tzhe first one, apparently, will take you to a random plaze on your planet.

MA: ))Tzhe second one will drop you off on tzhe planet clockwize to you. Zo once I can get to my gate, I can get to you!

VB: ~oooooohhhhh! th4t's wh4t those 4re for!~

MA: ))Yep!

VB: ~but... how do we get to the g4tes?~

MA: ))We build.

VB: ~eh?~

MA: ))Okay, zo remember tzhat Grizt ztuff we mentioned from earlier?

MA: ))Well, tzhe mozt bazic form of it iz called "Build Grizt" and iz a very bazic light blue color. While yez, it iz uzed most of tzhe time in Alchemy, it is also uzed for ztructural modification.

MA: ))And ezzentially, one of your objectivez iz to build upwards, towardz the gatez and Zkaia.

VB: ~m4n, this grist stuff is super-duper import4nt.~

MA: ))And a pain in tzhe azz to get.

MA: ))Zeeing az you have to get... violent... witzh tzhe baddiez.

MA: ))Very violent.

VB: ~oh.~

VB: ~well i'm honestly not th4t.~

MA: ))Yea, me neitzher.

MA: ))Luckily, my conzorts, which are apparently zome nutbeaztz who call tzhemzlvez "tzhe zquirrelkind," really don't like tzhe underlingz either. Tzhey are alzo teaching me how to uze tzhis bow and fight better, but tzhey zay a bow iz "a zizzy'z weapon."

VB: ~it's not 4 sissy's we4pon! 4nd if you don't know how to use 4 bow, why do you keep it?~

MA: ))It went really well witzh my whole "stringz and bowz" tzhing I have going.

MA: ))Zue me.

VB: ~heheh.~

VB: ~m4ybe we should find 4 better we4pon for you.~

MA: ))Well it'z not like we can head down to tzhe local armory anymore.

VB: ~true. we could prob4bly 4sk someone else, like the signless followers or gedem4 4nd her... g4ngster mob?~

MA: ))Heh, I guezz zo. Hey, zo can I work on a new character witzh you? I feel like I might have forgotten zome ztuff.

VB: ~sure! I h4ven't done this in 4 while, it should be fun!~

MA: ))I heard tzhere was a trend of trollz FLARPING as tzheir anczeztorz? I tzhink I'll try tzhat.

VB: ~ummmm... you know th4t's a lo4d of highblood g4rbage, right?~

MA: ))No, actually! I managed to find my own anczeztor, zpecifically becauze of my ability to access the Alternian databazes. Ya know, highblood ztatus. I did alzo help zome other trollz find their own, I bet I could help you az well!

VB: ~uh-huh. then who's your 4ncestor?~

MA: ))Tzhe Compozer. He waz juzt like me: he loved muzic. Only differenze iz that he loved being in front of a crowd. I... do not. He waz eventually convicted of robbing royalty, and he went on tzhe run. He had a bunch of other adventurez, involving tzhe Dictator, tzhe Betrayer, and tzhe Novelizt.

VB: ~you re4lly know your history, huh?~

MA: ))Very much zo! I honeztly love hiztory, it'z very interezting to learn about Alternian pazt. I'm ezpecially interezted in tzhe Zignlezz age, with tzhe big rebellion and all.

VB: ~wh4t's the signless 4ge?~

MA: ))You don't...?

MA: ))Oh, tzhat'z right, the Condezce banned any postz or bookz regarding the Zignless Age. Bazically, it waz tzhe time of tzhe Zignlezz and hiz alliez, when they went around preaching peacze and equality, regardlezz of blood color.

VB: ~wow! I think i would h4ve loved to live in th4t kind4 time.~

MA: ))Didn't lazt long, zorry to zay. Tzhe Zignlezz, tzhe Pziionic, tzhe Dizciple and tzhe Doloroza were all captured a few yearz later. Tzhey put him to tzhe iron chainz. Tzhe Dizciple ezcaped and recorded all hiz teachingz on a cave wall. Tzhe Pziionic waz forced to become tzhe helmzman for the Condezce'z flagship, and tzhe Dolorosa waz zold into zlavery. Tzhe rebellion ended almozt az quickly az it came.

VB: ~4www... th4t's re4lly s4d.~

MA: ))No kidding. Anyway, enough talk of tzhe pazt. I have a character to make!

VB: ~hmm... well, did "the composer" h4ve 4 real name?~

MA: ))Yea, but no one knew it. He did have a nickname, tzhough. "Minztrel Coldmoon."

VB: ~ooooh! kind4 creepy.~

MA: ))He waz actually a really nicze guy, actually. Just like me, he endorzed equality. Unfortunately, he waz betrayed and his (very good) vocal cordz were forczibly ripped from his tzhroat, witzhout tzhe intent to kill. He waz in angony, however, zo hiz caretakerz mercifully ended hiz life. Poor zoul.

VB: ~wow. times do not ch4nge much.~

MA: ))At leazt not on Alternia.

VB: ~i would s4y good ridd4nce, but there were 4 lot of trolls who didn't deserve to die.~

VB: ~oh uh, we got 4 bit off-topic. so, we h4ve your ch4r4cter's n4me, now we need 4 cl4ss. you still h4ve the manu4l?~

MA: ))Mmmmaaaaaaybe?

MA: ))Okay, good it'z in my clozet.

MA: ))A clazz… a clazz… hm, I really like the "Doublet Tunezmith."

VB: ~i h4d 4 feeling you'd pick that one, you cheeky musici4n.~

MA: ))Heheh, guilty az charged.

VB: ~4lright, 4ll th4t's left is to do bunch of other stupid 4nd time-consuming m4th. unfortun4tely.~

VB: ~god i h4ted th4t p4rt.~

MA: ))I dezpized it tzhe firzt time, I doubt I'll like it tzhis time.

VB: ~so, b4sed on the m4nual i h4ve heer in my h4nds, the 4ttributes we need 4re vigor, r4sc4lity, dexterity, pulchritude, gr4ce, 4ppetite, m4ngrit, hubris, lever4ge, 4nd of course, im4gin4tion!~

VB: ~they're 4ll pretty self-expl4nitory st4ts.~

VB: ~now we just need to 4ssign each dice rostrum to 4 st4t. go 4he4d 4nd roll for e4ch, 4fter th4t we'll 4ssign e4ch result. sound good?~

MA: ))Zure. Okay, for Tzhrone of tzhe Emprezz, I got... 16.

MA: ))For Zcrimshaw Workztation, I got... 12.

MA: ))Tyranny'z Tribute... damn it, 10.

MA: ))For Bilgewater Zoapbox, I'm getting... 7.

MA: ))For Oracle'z Diaz, I got a 20. Pretty good!

MA: ))Foolish Profezzor'z Lectern... 8.

MA: ))Conductor'z Ztand... 11.

MA: ))Tribune of tzhe Heiress... 14.

MA: ))Choir Boxz of tzhe Faczepaint Angelz... holy shit, 20!

VB: ~you're getting pretty lucky!~

MA: ))Right?

MA: ))Okay, lazt one... Podium of Runnerz Up comez in at 12. Nicze.

VB: ~now 4ll you gott4 do is 4ssign e4ch v4lue to 4n 4ttribute.~

MA: ))What valuez are important to a Doublet Tunezmith again?

VB: ~well, the tunesmith is 4 performer-b4sed cl4ss. It's 4lso 4 support cl4ss, securing 4 few things. first, coldmoon's 4ppetite will need to be low. i'd suggest using the seven.~

VB: ~other th4n th4t, the v4lues th4t need to be highest 4re PLC, GR4 and DEX.~

MA: ))Fair enough, let'z zee...

MA: ))I'll put the CBotF ztat in Pulchritude, tzhe Oracle ztat in Dex and tzhe TotE ztat in Gracze. Tzhat leavez zeven ztatz. I'll zave imagination for lazt, zeeing az we're both not going to cloud.

MA: ))What elze do I not need... oh, right, I'm putting tzhat zeven into APP, and I'll put tzhe eight into LVG. Tzhat leaves me 11, 14, 12, 12, and 10. Tzhose will go zomewhere into GRT, VIM, RAS, HUB, and IMG.

MA: ))Tzhe ten will go into IMG, becauze I'm not a clouder. I'll need VIM fairly high, zeeing az of tzhe debuffs to any zupport'z health, so I'll put it with tzhe 14. I'll put HUB and RAS as tzhe twelvez, and tzhat leavez GRT witzh tzhe 11.

VB: ~well, th4t didn't t4ke too long. th4nk fucking goodness.~

VB: ~ok4y, 4ll th4t's left is his person4lity, equipment, 4nd 4bilities. think you c4n do th4t on your own?~

MA: ))Yez.

MA: ))But uh, before I go do tzhat, can I azk you sometzhing?

VB: ~sure! ≈;)~

MA: ))Well, on tzhe chatz, you alwayz zeem very much a recluze. You don't zay much. But here, you've been a lot more open, if not completely taking charge! What'z witzh tzhe zudden change?

VB: ~oh...~

VB: ~well... i...~

VB: ...i close myself off to most people. most of the time, i've found, people just w4nt to see my hurt. just bec4use i'm 4 lowblood. or to use me, bec4use i'm 4 psionic.~

VB: ~4nd i let them, to some degree, bec4use fighting b4ck only c4uses neg4tive 4ttention to be dr4wn to me.~

VB: ~but...~

VB: ~you h4ven't. not once.~

VB: ~you're just... 4 n4tur4lly kind person. i b4rely even know you, yet i get the feeling th4t you're s4fe.~

VB: ~to be 4round, i me4n.~

MA: ))...tzhat haz to be one of tzhe few major complimentz I've ever gotten.

VB: ~well th4t's kind4 s4d. ≈:/~

MA: ))Oh, shoosh.

VB: ~heehee!~

MA: ))But... yea, your complimentz mean a lot, zeeing az I don't get tzhem much.

VB: ~it's no problem! If 4nything, i should be th4nking you.~

VB: ~oh cr4p, those underlings just 4rrived! i gtg!~

VB has ceased trolling MA.

* * *

sharpenedAntithesis [SA] has begun trolling decietfulAquatic.

SA: Ok/\y, listen the hell up "your highness."

SA: I don't know wh/\t the hell you think you're doing, but l/\st I checked, you're /\ fucking se/\dweller of fuschi/\, empyrian blood.

SA: Why the hell /\re you letting some insignific/\nt BLUE BLOOD toss you /\round like a m/\nebe/\st's toy?!

DA: We11, 1f y0u're such a heavy be11ver 1n the hem0spectrum, then why the he11 are y0u g1v1ng me 0rders?

SA: SOMETHING needs to be ch/\nged /\bout the disgr/\ce you'\/e become.

DA: Jegus chr1st, d0 y0u even have a f11ter?

SA: I h/\\\/e /\ lot of experience /\nswering this p/\rticular question.

SA: /\nd the /\nswer is no.

DA: Ugh! Y0u're c0mp1ete1y 1nsufferab1e!

SA: S/\ys y0u, pr1ncess.

SA: Y/\ know, th/\t idiotic excuse for /\ highblood did get something right: the more you progress, the more powerful you become.

SA: /\nd with my newfound disco\/ery of my M/\GE OF \/OID powers, I learned th/\t I c/\n le/\rn secrets, good /\nd b/\d.

SA: /\nd you're nowhere close to /\n exception.

SA: By f/\r, you h/\ve one incredibly m/\ssive secret.

SA: Don't you, "your highness?"

DA: Erm... 1-1 d0n't kn0w what y0u're t-ta1k1ng ab0ut!

SA: Dn't pl/\y dumb with me.

SA: Your lies stink of fear /\nd desper/\tion.

SA: I know the truth...

SA: .../\bout your "collection."

DA: wut

SA: Oh yes! I know th/\t you, Jeri/\x \/\lern, /\re secretly /\ f/\n of My Little Hoofbe/\st!

DA: ...

DA: ...0h my fucking g0d…

SA: Wh/\t, did I get it wrong? Godd/\mnit, I knew I shouldn't have ch/\tted up those horror mo\/ie rejects...

DA: N0, 1 am 1ndeed a fan 0f M1H.

SA: Then wh/\t the hell /\re /\re you "oh my goooood"ing /\bout?

DA: 1 th0ught y0u were g01ng t0 revea1 my b1ggest 0ne.

SA: TH/\T W/\SN'T YOUR FUCKING BIGGEST ONE?!

SA: GODD/\MNIT

SA: STUPID SHITTY /\SS POWERS

DA: Y0u'11 get them eventua11y.

DA: That and y0u pr0bab1y haven't advanced en0ugh t0 learn b1gger secrets and such.

SA: Ye/\, ye/\, I get it.

DA: 0h! Bef0re 1 f0rget, what 1S y0ur name?

SA: Mor\/is Sa\/\ke, not /\t your ser\/ice.

SA: Now, for your inform/\tion, once I figure out wh/\t your "omeg/\ big secret" is, you /\re GOING to get your /\ct together or it's GOING to come out.

DA: B1te me, fuckass.

DA has gone offline.

SA: Godd/\mnit.

SA has ceased trolling DA.

* * *

wildernessIntrepid [WI] has begun trolling adroitlyInsidious [AI].

WI: _Heie Gedema! Quick question: do ieou need anie help over there in the Land of Neon and Chaos? Or LoNaC, if ieou will?_

AI: of cours i fucking do

AI: but its not llik you can gt ovr hr

AI: sinc wr on diffrnt worllds and allll

WI: _Well, maiebe not. I've done the research, and the second gate, I've discovered, will take ieou to the next land over, clockwise._

AI: plas tllll m your saying what i think your saying

WI: _Oh I am, trust me. 3;)_

AI: thn what th fuck ar you waiting for?!

AI: gt your jad ass ovr hr, w nd backup anyway du to a horde of orcs just fucking arriving out of th blu

WI: _Alright! Entering the gate now! See ieou in a sec!_

WI has ceased trolling AI.

* * *

interstellarXenologist [IX] has begun trolling winsomeSpectre [WS].

IX: *ok*y i'll s*y this right now so i don't h*ve to l*ter*

IX: *i re*lly don't like you*

WS: HUH? WHAT DID I DO TO ¥OU?

IX: *technic*lly nothing*

IX: *but looking *t the w*y you do *nything*

IX: *it becomes very, very obvious*

IX: *you're nothing but * spoiled br*t*

IX: *i me*n, look *t your fucking quirk*

IX: *you're just filling your words with money signs*

WS: W€££ IT'$ NOT £IK€ TH€ POW€R I HAD MATTER$ AN¥MOR€, $€€ING A$ OUR P£AN€T'$ D€AD.

IX: *i still do not trust * city girl to do the right thing inste*d of wh*t'll m*ker her the most mool*h*

WS: TH€N OV€R TH€ ¢OUR$€ OF THI$ GAM€, L€T M€ PROV€ IT TO YOU. I RAN A BU$IN€$$ BACK ON A£T€RNIA, AND I HAD A HIGH L€V€L OF $ATISFA¢TION FROM M¥ €MP£O¥€€S. S€€ING A$ I BROUGHT THEM A£ONG, THE¥'££ PROV€ IT TO ¥OU.

WS: I$ THAT A¢¢€PTAB£€?

IX: *sure, slicker*

IX: *don't fuck it up or try to p*y off your employees to s*y good shit *bout you*

WS: OKA¥, OKA¥. CA£M ¥OUR$€£F DOWN.

IX: *i'll c*lm down when i get my results*

IX: *good d*y to you*

IX has ceased trolling WS.

* * *

fulfillingQuadrant [FQ] has begun trolling sanctifiedMercenary [SM].

FQ: #helloooooo_ms_aphros

SM: ((...oh... hi.))

SM: ((...is anything wrong?))

FQ: #no_i_just_thought_i'd_say_hi

FQ: #i_want_to_really_know_my_new_comanions

FQ: #seeing_as_we're_now_working_together_to_save_the_troll_race

SM: ((yea... i guess that makes sense.))

SM: ((so what's up...?))

FQ: #just_exploring_my_planet

FQ: #which_isn't_much

FQ: #well

FQ: #not_much_above_the_clouds_i_guess

SM: ((...mind describing your land...?))

FQ: #well

FQ: #for_starters

FQ: #my_hive_landed_on_a_floating_island

FQ: #there_are_a_few_of_em_but_not_many

FQ: #most_likely_everything_useful_is_beneath_the_clouds

FQ: #other_than_that

FQ: #it's_pretty_barren

SM: ((...yea, that's pretty empty.))

SM: ((...and if there's nothing above the clouds... then the only way down might be a leap of faith...))

SM: ((...if you can't find a normal way down, anyway...))

FQ: #i_might_not_even_want_to_go_down

FQ: #seeing_as_those_aren't_just_clouds

FQ: #they're_freaking_storms

FQ: #this_place_is_called_the_land_of_tempest_and_rainbows

FQ: #so_i'd_expect_there_would_be_a_shit_ton_of_tempest

SM: ((heheh.))

SM: ((...might be some hurricane conditions down there.))

SM: ((better make sure you're prepared before you head down...))

FQ: #that_might_not_be_for_a_while

FQ: #i'd_much_rather_get_jacked_with_powers_before_i_brave_the_storms

SM: ((...speaking of which... do you know your role yet...?))

SM: ((i already know mine... i'm "the prince of doom..."))

FQ: #well_that_sounds_ominous

FQ: #you_don't_seem_like_the_doom_and_gloom_type_tho

SM: ((...yeah, i'm not... i'm actually an optimist...))

SM: ((...or so i've been told...))

SM: ((anyway... have you learned yours?))

FQ: #nope

FQ: #haven't_met_my_consorts_yet

FQ: #mainly_because_they_fly_and_can't_stop_flying

FQ: #bunch_of_finbeasts_with_wings_for_pectoral_fins

FQ: #not_the_feather_kind

FQ: #they're_just_longer_and_they_glide_around_with_em

SM: ((...that is really weird...))

FQ: #yea_i_know

SM: ((maybe you have to get on their level...? learn to fly with your powers, maybe...))

FQ: #yea_fat_chance

FQ: #unless_i_get_some_badass_wind_powers

FQ: #(i_mean_what_are_the_chances_of_that)

FQ: #i'm_probably_never_going_to_speak_with_them

Tazend went on to manifest wind powers.

* * *

dramaticFixture [DF] began trolling benevolentNightmare [BN].

DF: (: ALRIGHT, LISSTEN UP LAWBLEWD. ):

DF: (: WE BOTH KNAW THIS "YAOH, THE CAWNDESSCE IS SSAW WAWNDERFUL AND GLAWRIAWUSS" ACT ISS BULLSHIT.

DF: (: SHE'SS A MEGALAWMANIAC GRADE-A ASSSSHAWLE, AND NAWTHING ELSSE. ):

BN: S- FUCKING WHAT? SURE, US L-WBL-S MIGHT BE KILLE- F-R SP-RT AN- BECAUSE "WE NEE- T- BE ELIMINATE-," BUT SHE KEPT THE TR-LL RACE ALIVE AN- PR-SPERING SINCE THE FALL -F THE DICTAT-R.

DF: (: YESS, BUT YAONLY YAON THE BAWNESS YAOF LAWBLEWDS LIKE YAWURSSELF. ):

BN: SINCE WHEN HAVE Y-U BEC-ME A BL- EQUALITY ACTIVIST?

DF: (: NEVER SSAID I WAS. I JUSST THINK THE HEMAWSSPECTRUM IS SSTUPID. ):

DF: (: BARELY ANYAWNE BELIEVESS IN IT ANYMAWRE. ):

BN: I BELIEVE IN IT.

DF: (: WELL THEN YAWU'RE JUSST HAWLDING YAONTAW A DEAD IDEAWLAWGY. THE CAWNDESSCE HAS NAW HAWLD YAOVER USS... WHEREVER WE ARE. SHE MIGHT EVEN BE DEAD. SAW HAWNESSTLY, FUCK HER. ):

BN: OKAY, MAYBE THE HEM-SPECTRUM IS -EA-. I AM, H-WEVER, STILL G-ING T- UPH-L- THE TRA-ITI-NS WE ARE FAMILIAR WITH, LIKE FUSCHIAS TAKING THE LEA-ER R-LE.

BN: Y-U AN- THE -THER HIGHBL-S WILL TAKE SIMILAR HIGH-PLACE- ROLES, C-MMAN-ING US L-WBL-S AR-UND T- FIGHT Y-UR BATTLES.

BN: MAKE SENSE? T- FUCKING BA-, THAT'S WHAT I'M A-HERING T-. THE GREATEST FUCKING WAR THAT WILL EVER GRACE- THIS SYSTEM IS C-MING, AN- I AM SO GETTING IN -N IT.

DF: (: WHY THE HELL WAWULD YAWU WANT A WAR TAW HAPPEN? WE CAWULD GET KILLED! ):

BN: Y-U MIGHT. BUT I'VE BEEN TRAINING AN- PREPARING T- J-IN THE INTERGALACTIC C-NQUEST MY ENTIRE LIFE. N- WAY IN HELL AM I GONNA JUST F-RGET AB-UT THE SKILLS I HAVE.

DF: (: FUCK IT, I'LL GIVE YAWU THAT. ):

DF: (: JUSST DAWN'T FUCKIN USE IT AGAINSST USS. USSE IT AGAINSST WHATEVER BAD GUYSS ARE IN THISS GAME. ):

BN: THAT'S WHAT I HAVE BEEN -ING, IN-IG-. AN- I D- N-T INTEN- T- ST-P.

BN: JUST KN-W THIS: ST-P BEING A C-MPLETE ASSHAT -R Y-U MIGHT FIN- A 45 CALIBER BULLET TEARING RIGHT THR-UGH Y-UR SKULL. YES, I - CARE AB-UT THE HEM-SPECTRUM, BUT RULES ARE MA-E T- BE BR-KEN S-METIMES. WATCH Y-UR BACK, IN-IG-.

BN: -VER AN- -UT.

BN has ceased trolling DF.

DF: (: YAOH FUCK. ):

* * *

**Hello everyone! I'm back, after a WHILE. You'd expect that this virus would free up a lot of my time, but instead it's been eating away at mine. And yea, I get that this chapter is fairly short. However, it's meant to be a gigantic setup for the next chapter... and no, I'm not spoiling anything! Just know that it will be pretty massive in terms of plot development. I hope to see you then!**

**-RavensofOdin**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Intertwining Fates**


	6. Chapter 4

**I've been looking forward to this milestone in the story. I hope you all enjoy it as much reading it as I did writing it!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Intertwining Fates**

"_What the hell is this._"

"chaos. its in th nam."

"_My eies hurt._"

"gt usd to it."

You're standing on top of a five-story apartment building, in the run-down district where the Underworld's warehouse appeared. The sky is empty and dark, with Skaia only providing a faint light across the darkened and dirty streets. In the distance, a city looms: full of colors and moving things. Everything is incredibly fast, and what's worse is that each district is on a tile which constantly shifts places with others, completely randomly at that. There is no method to the madness, there is only chaos.

Neon and chaos.

Beside you stands Gedema, a fellow green-blooded troll. You advocated to help her out with her progression and dealing with the swarms of underlings that came along, but the gates only function in a clockwise manner, so getting back will take time. Especially if what future violetblood said was true. You still haven't learned his name, damnit. You'll get it eventually.

You met Hades. Or the Boss, as Gedema calls him. Very boisterous and loud, yet very eloquent. He was the type of figure who commanded respect, which you assume is why Gedema looks up to him so much.

"so what do w do now, firrin?" the oliveblood asked. You made a mental list of things that needed to be done. "_Well, I have to get back to mie own planet sometime, so we'll need to build up ieour hive until we reach the second gate._" The younger girl nodded in response. "prtty llogicall thinking thr. id llik to go sii th othr llands anyway, so its bnficiall to m as wllll."

"_Maiebe we should get ieou some better equipment first._"

"oh fuck ys, w shoulld totalllly do that.

"_Well, what do ieou want to make?_"

"a nw st of gauntlts. i want to punch shit vn hardr than bfor."

"_How hard are we talking?_"

"vr hard of a gam calld mortall kombat?"

"_Fair enough, let's get cooking._"

Firrin: Descend.

You take the rusty and darkened escape ladder down to the ground, where the only light comes from the grimy street lamps, slightly obscured with fluttering moths seeking the fake light, and the headlights of scuttlebuggies as they plow down the streets at highly unsafe speeds.

Navigating this place was dangerous, you figured that out quick. The motorized vehicles, if they smashed into you, would break a small amount of bones. And by that you mean every single one. Then there's the gang wars, which have increased from their already very high frequency by Gedema's arrival, seeing as the Underworld is in fact, a criminal gang. Sure, it may not be the same aggressive crime as the street gang, but it is still organized crime.

Luckily, the Underworld has started setting up ways around the dangers, such as bridges between rooftops and barricades warding off intruders in the new territory. Luckily, you don't have to use any of those, because you and the oliveblood climbed the nearest building to the headquarters, which now reaches four stories. It's still increasing, due to Gedema's sprite: prototyped first with an old cephalopod fossil with a unique helix shell, and then with a set of playing cards. The news about it was bad: the damn thing, dubbed Helixsprite, was constantly trying to hook up everyone in all of the quadrants.

And you do not like outside interference in your quadrants.

Essentially, the sprite has been a gigantic pain in your side. You've been doing your best to avoid it (him/her/them?), with little luck, due to the ghosty translucency. Tangible, yet intangible. You wanted some basic privacy to use the load gaper? Nope, there's Helixsprite asking about your supposed "advances" on someone. Couldn't even sleep without the damn thing somehow invading your dreams. It was fucking horrible.

You need to get the fuck off this planet.

"aint that th truth."

"_I... said that aloud, didn't I_."

"indiid you did. and i do not bllam you one bit."

"_So we can both agree that this land sucks?_

"fuck ys w can. now can w go insid? its fucking friizing out hr."

"_Sure._"

You entered the busy warehouse where a slight salty smell of the sea still remained, even after the three days since everyone's arrival. No more trolls would be entering, and no more would be leaving until whatever happened at the end of the game. You still have no idea what will happen at the end, despite the ever growing limits to your powers. You'll manage to get it eventually.

Firrin: Alchemize.

You reach Gedema's Alchemiter. So far, it's gone unused except for her entry item, which was apparently a skull that needed to be smashed in. Very macabre, that one. But not anymore, for it's time to put it to good use.

"_So, ieou want to make some new gauntlets, right?_"

"yp."

"_Alright, can you captchalouge them?_"

"fuck."

"_Is there an issue?_"

"ys. i fucking HAT my captchaloug modus, sii-ing as i niidd to show off that i had a modus to my frinds whn i was a wriggllr. of cours, i accidntalllly picked th on modus i cant vn us. allso known as the bllssd miracll modus."

"_What's the miracle modus do?_"

"that's th thing: i hav no cllu. only th clown cult wirdos us it, for fuck knows why."

"_Okaie, point taken: never let ieou store aniething for me._"

"damn straight."

"_Aniewaie, just drop them on the ground and I'll pick them up._"

"hr ya go thn."

"_Thank ieou, and the captchalouge code is… "hGwLPzT9." Let's get that into the Punch Designix… and we have a punched card._"

"what now?"

"_What do ieou want to combine these with?_"

"a mothrfuckin lloudspaker."

"_Do ieou have one nearbie?_"

"its ovr in my stuff."

"_Can ieou get it real quick?"

"sur… aight, hr."

"Thank ieou. And here we are. Now let's combine them into one card, get it to the Totem Lathe, and back to the Alchemiter._"

"this is a llngthy fuckin procss."

"_Iea, I know. Prepare to do it a lot more._"

The gloves, combined with the loudspeaker, ended up being an incredible idea. The resulting gauntlets ended up having sonic sound powers, sending shockwaves of incredibly loud bass towards any underling who got in the rampaging oliveblood's way. It was humbling and absolutely terrifying for you to watch.

But as you watch the grist fall from the black splatters of Shale Orcs, you begin to be filled with hope. You've been so unsure about if you can really win this thing.

But now, you're beginning to see the validity in Vallem's promise. He, and the other ten trolls, will keep everyone safe when you can't.

A determined and confident resolve begins to flow through your jade-colored veins.

Firrin: Be someone else.

You find yourself in a darkened snowy tundra. An inky black lake laps at its beaches, warding off any who seek a refreshing drink. In the distance, an similarly black ocean waves at the rocks of the mainland, dragging them into the depths. And far out to sea, an utterly gigantic wall of mist emerges and begins a foreboding race to land. It churns with hunger; an insatiable desire to tear flesh from bone.

Which is why you are running for some sort of cover.

The crowkind consorts who you have recruited into your brand new guild of followers sweat with exertion, carrying precious gems and the strange rainbow currency they are incredibly fond of. You're just holding your throwing knives close, in case any underlings gets in the way of your desperate flight to safety.

You think you can hear the roar of the fog from behind you.

"Mage!" one of the crows yells at you. "We cannot carry all of this cargo if we are to make it back to the village!" You growl with frustration. "Fine. You se\/en, in the b/\ck. Drop your shit /\nd, help the others c/\rry the rest. /\nd for fucks s/\ke, PICK UP YOUR GODD/\MN P/\CE!"

You, Morvis Savake, the MAGE OF VOID, do not have the time for slackers. There are plenty of these little bastards all across this fucking iceberg you call a planet, but there's only one of you, and fuck everything if you aren't fucking important.

You are swearing way too much to be good for you. But you're under a lot of stress right now, so good vocab is not one of your bigger concerns.

You got a very nice welcome to the Land of Rime and Abyss in the form of nearly losing your skin, when you first exited your hive and entered the mists. It took a few days for scabs to form over the patches of lost skin, seeing as they were fairly large. After that, you associated yourself with the locals (luckily the house appeared in the center of a village), alongside your other violetblood friends. You immediately asserted command over everyone, crows and trolls alike. Of course, for being so loyal to you, your acquaintances got high roles in your new society.

This was supposed to be an excursion to create a capital for this planet: get enough funds and treasure, and you assert your dominance like that. However, these feather-brained idiots forgot to mention when the mist rolls back in. So now, you are doing your damndest to save both you and these bumbling buffoons.

As you round a corner, the cave entrance to the valley which the village resides in comes into view. The guards who watch over the gate have abandoned their posts in fear, leaving the doors wide open. You dash through, closing the stone doors and keeping the mist out. The crows take a minute to release multiple sighs of relief and to catch their breath in the process. Seems somewhat counterproductive to you, but you're also not a dimwitted flapbeast.

You merely sigh in frustration.

"/\lright, while I /\lre/\dy h/\\\/e the /\nswer to this question /\t h/\nd, c/\n /\NYONE tell me why the hell th/\t h/\ppened?!" you yell at your subordinates. They stare at you in a terrified silence, the sweat somehow managing to soak through their feathers to drip down their bodies. Some shake, others close their eyes and then reopen them, as if trying to wake themselves from a particularly bad dream. Alas, no salvation will come to them.

Eventually, one brave crow decides to raise his voice. "W-w-w-we d-did-dn't inf-f-form y-you of th-th-the m-mist s-s-sched-dules…" You whip around to face the young avian. "Ex/\ctly fucking correct! /\nd bec/\use of th/\t, I le/\rned the h/\rd w/\y when that w/\ll of pure de/\th ne/\rly killed us /\ll!" The crows seem ashamed of themselves, and rightly so. They nearly committed an unintentional suicide, if it wasn't for you.

You sigh, seeing that the crows are very sorry and regretful of their actions. And you'll never admit this to anyone, but you're growing somewhat fond of them. Sure, they're a bunch of pawns for someone's use, but they're your pawns. You can't stay mad at them. Plus, you can't run a dictatorship with subjects who hate you or think you're a heartless bastard. The Dictator proved that much. Thank the Condesce your ancestor stabbed that douchebag. Literally.

"I'm going to let you off e/\sy this time," you tell them. Their heads turn to face yours, eyes glimmering with thanks. "But the next time something like this, th/\t could h/\\\/e been /\\\/oided with just /\ little bit of prior thinking, h/\ppens, I will not be /\s lenient. /\m I understood?" The crows nod rapidly, and you can see with full clarity that you've planted the seeds of complete loyalty.

A few hours later, after the mist has passed, you return to the village. The crows watch the jewels with an appraising eye: they are natural lovers of all that glitters. You decide to give the warriors who came with you a few coins and a gem each. Such an action will help stimulate a brand new economy, of which you will reside at the very top.

As you walk through the village, your newly-crafted computer tablet pings from your pack. You open it up, and see you've been sent a notification from your lusus-ghost companion, Drillysprite. He says that the hive has been built up enough to reach the second gate. You smirk, and pull up a memo.

CURRENT sharpenedAntithesis [CSA] RIGHT NOW opened a memo on board Guess th/\t pl/\net!

CSA: /\lright, listen up. I'm /\bout to go g/\te-hopping, /\nd I'd like to know who the hell I'm going to \/isit.

CSA: So c/\n /\nyone tell me who h/\s /\ pl/\net with /\ gig/\ntic pine forest on it?

FUTURE sanctifiedMercenary [FSM] TEN HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FSM: ((...i'll save you the trouble, it's mine...))

FSM: ((...the me from right now will find out in a few minutes what their planet looks like from the surface... because you showed up.))

CSA: Well fuck. Eh, I'm e/\ger to get off this pl/\net for a little while, I got nothing better to do th/\n meet up with the guy who st/\nds for liter/\lly e\/erything I'm /\g/\inst.

CSA: See you in /\ sec, p/\st you.

CSA banned FSM from responding to memo.

CSA has closed the memo.

Satisfied with the quick results of your inquiry, you rush back through the carapace door to your hive, propped open by sturdy branches. A few of your seadweller allies are lounging in your living room, and they inquire to your well-being. You simply respond with a "meh" type noise and move on. They don't follow, simply because they wish the same thing in your position. Seadwellers are a simple subrace.

You begin climbing the tower your hive has become, walking past the first gate, and approaching the second. You wave at Drillysprite, who was a drillyfish invertebrate-type lusus, before it died due to lack of water in your hive. You proceeded to throw the corpse onto the kernelsprite, allowing for it to be revived. You then threw a few of your throwing knives into the mix, creating a ghost jellyfish that could drill through anything with knives.

You're fucking genius.

You reach the second gate, which pulsates in a violet color. The only one that matters. You remove the spare knife from your pocket, and activate your Marksman Modus. Several targets materialize around you, and you snap your arm to your right, throwing the knife, which embeds itself in the dead center of a target. Your full supply of knives pops into existence as a result, and you dispel the targets, no longer requiring anything from your sylladex.

The blades gleam in the faint light emitted from Skaia.

Morvis: Enter.

You bunch your legs and leap using your enhanced highblood strength. The floors fly by, and the gates expand, as if sensing your approach. A dark facility appears on the other side for a millisecond, before you collide with said facility face-first.

Several young trolls of various blood colors yelp with surprise, and give plenty of space for you to gather yourself and your very broken nose, which is bleeding your violet blood very heavily. Or, "cartilaginous nub," as the lowbloods call them. A couple of the trolls around you run off, most likely to find some sort of law enforcement. This could either end well or horribly, by your standards.

Luckily, it ended better than you expected, as a troll comes back with another garbed in a lime-colored bandana. You'd recognize the color anywhere, so you put on an arrogant smile (your favorite kind) and quickly begin to ransack your mental library of snarky comments. A suitable one emerges soon after. "Why hello there, pukeblood," you say.

The surrounding trolls gasp in shock. And suddenly, a previously small grin on Khepri's face turns into an utterly gigantic and devious grin. "((...i was hoping you'd say something like that,))" she says. She snaps her fingers, as if to command someone.

You scoff. You're a highblood, there's no chance anyone can restrain you.

Until an utterly gigantic ADULT troll walks into the room. A purpleblood, to be specific. The face is covered in smudged and horrifying clown facepaint, with three claw scars across the face. There's a very dopey look on his face, yet if you glance into his eyes, you can see a wildfire of anger: barely contained, and itching to be set free.

You willingly let yourself be picked up and carried through the facility in your terrified state. Khepri walks beside the giant, chatting away like nothing is wrong.

You really hate her.

After a few minutes, the clown stops in front of a stone door, engraved within is the signature irons of the Signless' demise. Khepri commands the troll-beast to stop, and knocks on the door. A gravelly voice seeps from underneath. "COME IN," it commands.

You're carried into the room, which you find is a meeting room. An oval table sits at the center, and only a select few seats are filled, mostly with trolls that should have left for the intergalactic wars above long ago.

The most important ones stand out immediately. A jadeblood in a delicate and elegant dress. A goldblood psiionic, wearing armor to compliment his bright red and blue eyes. An oliveblood, wearing white lusus pelts in a crude yet intimidating attire. And lastly, the big man himself. The Signless' descendant, wearing a black robe laced together with bright red string. The hood was down, allowing his rugged face and iron-colored eyes to be clearly seen.

The fabled troll glances at the clown as he enters, and raises an eyebrow at you. "THANKS MAKARA. YOU CAN DROP THE SEADWELLER NOW," he says. The troll named Makara just smiles and sets you down gently. You dust yourself off, checking to make sure the yellowed claws of the purpleblood didn't pierce your high-quality clothes.

The trolls watch as Makara nearly breaks his massive horns on the low entrance, before finally releasing a collective sigh of relief. "I Don't Think I Can Ever State Enough How Much I Distrust Him," says the jadeblood. The oliveblood nods. ":33 agr33d. my claws will easily rip his face open again if he ever trips out… again." You're very disturbed by the backstory you're hearing.

"OKAY, EVERYONE SHUT UP." commands the mutantblood. "KHEPRI, WHAT'S GOING ON? I DIDN'T KNOW WE HAD ANY SEADWELLERS ON BOARD."

"((remember how i mentioned that the gates above the mountain can take us to different locations...?))" Khepri asks. The Signless nods. The limeblood scum then proceeds to wrap a filthy arm around you. "((...well, this is one of our "friends" from another land. the violetblood douchebag, unfortunately...)) The Signless one narrows his eyes. "be careful, kk" says the goldblood. The Ironblood nods in affirmation. He slowly approaches you, and you are very distrubed by the fact that you have to look up at him, despite the fact that he's a somewhat short adult.

"LISTEN THE FUCK UP, SEADWELLER," the Signless begins. "MY NAME IS KARKAT VANTAS, DESCENDENT OF THE SIGNLESS, YADA YADA YADA. I MIGHT SOUND REALLY KIND AND NICE ON HOLOGRAM, BUT I ASSURE YOU, I CAN GET *VERY* ANGRY WHEN I NEED TO BE. AND IF YOU DECIDE TO GO AGAINST OUR IDEALS IN THE ONE PLACE I CAN CALL HOME, I WILL PERSONALLY TEAR YOU A NEW GASTRIC EVACUATION GLAND AND SEND THE OLD ONE TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, WHERE IT WILL RIDE EVERY RIDE ASSOCIATED WITH PAIN AND MISERY AND DEATH KNOWN TO THAT FUCKING PLACE. IT WILL MAKE GLORIOUS NEW "FRIENDS" UNTIL THEY GET SO FED UP WITH IT THAT THEY WILL COMMIT MASS FUCKING SUICIDE."

He presses his face very close to yours, unnerving you immensely. "I MAY NOT HAVE INCREDIBLE STRENGTH, RESILIENCE, OR ENDURANCE LIKE A SEADWELLER. MY LIFESPAN MIGHT BE SHORTER THAN YOURS, AND I MIGHT NOT BE THE TALLEST TROLL OF THEM ALL. BUT I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU KNOW YOU CARE ABOUT AND EVERYTHING YOU DON'T." His eyes narrow, and you see something that scares you. More than anything you've slaughtered, or any person you've met.

It is a complete, unwavering resolve that clearly states "I will have no regrets killing you if you wrong me or anyone I care about."

You are not making the impression you had hoped.

Vantas steps away, putting his hands behind his back. "NOW. IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE HERE FOR AN EXTENDED AMOUNT OF TIME, AT LEAST UNTIL WE PROGRESS WITH OUR BUILDING, WE NEED TO YOU MEET THE PEANUT GALLERY WHO *WILL* BE ACTING AS YOUR SUPERIORS. MOST NOTABLY ME. THE JADEBLOOD IS KANAYA MARYAM, MY MOIRAIL AND CHIEF ANALYST. SHE KEEPS US HIDDEN, CONCEALED, AND STILL MANAGES TO SPREAD THE WORLD OF MY ANCESTOR. HOW SHE DOES IT FUCKING BEYOND ME, BUT SHE'S EXTREMELY IMPORTANT IS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW." Said jadeblood flushes with embarrassment, yet with a smile on her face.

He gestures to the goldblood in the armor. "THIS IS SOLLUX CAPTOR. HE IS BY FAR THE STRONGEST PSIIONIC YOU WILL EVER MEET, AND HE CAN LITERALLY BLAST YOUR FACE TO SMITHEREENS WITH LASERS FROM HIS EYES IF YOU FUCK WITH HIM." You scoff with disbelief. Captor grins, and summons a mug to him. He tosses it in the air, and casually blasts it to bits while also leaving a smoldering hole tinged with red and blue in the ceiling.

You stand corrected.

Vantas clears his throat, and continues on as if nothing had ever happened. "WHILE HE IS AN EXTREME PESSIMIST, IT'S KEPT HIM ALIVE WHEN DEALING WITH DRONES. HE EXPECTS THE WORST, AND AVOIDS IT AT ALL COSTS. HE IS IN CHARGE OF ALL THE MILITARY AND ARMED FORCES IN THIS PLACE, AND THEY CAN AND WILL CAUSE HAVOC ONCE THE UNDERLINGS MANAGE TO NOT BE LOST IN THIS PLACE. HE'S ALSO IN CHARGE OF OUR ELECTRICITY AND INTERNET. HE'S A GOLDBLOOD, AFTER ALL." You nod, feigning interest. Does this guy EVER stop talking?

"AS FOR THE LAST BUT MOST CERTAINLY NOT LEAST IN MY PRIVATE INNER CIRCLE, WE HAVE NEPETA LEIJON. SHE COMMANDS OUR LEGION OF SPIES-"

"hehe, niice pun kk."

"SOLLUX, SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I STUFF A SOCK DOWN YOUR IGNORANCE SHAFT."

"and you're goiing two do 2o much damage to me, ii know. I wa2 ju2t poiinting out a completely aciidental pun that wa2 gloriiou2."

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, CAPTOR. SHUT UP. YOU ONLY LIKE PUNS BECAUSE OF YOUR FISHY MATESPRIT AND KISMESIS LIKE TWENTY SWEEPS AGO."

"oh fiine, you grouchy a22. al2o don't reveal my fuckiing secret2."

"DON'T CARE. ANYWAY, NEPETA COMMANDS OUR LEGION OF SPIES. THEY LEARN WHAT THEY CAN, KEEPING US UPDATED ON CURRENT EVENTS OUTSIDE THE MOUNTAINS. WELL, THEY DID. SHE'S ALSO IN CHARGE OF THE SMALL AMOUNT OF BEASTS WE HAVE. WE WOULD HAVE A LOT MORE, BUT UNFORTUNATELY WE DON'T HAVE A VERY GOOD BRONZEBLOOD AMONG OUR RANKS. I USED TO KNOW ONE OF THE BEST, BUT HE WAS A CRIPPLE AND WAS EVENTUALLY CULLED BY THE DRONES. POOR BASTARD."

"Wh/\t /\bout the clown?" you ask. Vantas cringes. "RIGHT. HIM. GAMZEE MAKARA. I CAN CONSIDER HIM MY "FRIEND," ONLY WHEN HE'S DRUGGED UP ON SOPOR SLIME. IF HE'S NOT, HE GOES INTO A MURDER SPREE. LUCKILY WE FIGURED THAT OUT BEFORE ANY MORE PEOPLE DIED. WE DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX HIM, SO WE KEEP HIM LIKE THIS."

"/\lright, I /\pologize for the interruption. Go on." you say. The Signless one nods. "WE ALSO HAVE VORCEE KELDAN, OUR CHIEF FINANCE MANAGER…" You desperately want to cover your fins, but you keep a stone cold and emotionless face on display. You've learned from experience how to conceal your emotions, make it look like you have no heart, that you are an empty husk.

It works, because Vantas goes on talking for the next thirty minutes. The oliveblood gives you a sympathetic look, and you break your mask for a second to give a "help me" look. She giggles silently, but shakes her head.

You're fucked.

Morvis: Be someone else.

You're once again Phonix Kilora, the KNIGHT OF HOPE, and you are about to undertake the most dangerous mission yet in your quest to free the people of the Land of Chains and Smog.

Thank the stars you're not alone.

You found the THIEF OF TIME getting completely swarmed by underlings, nearly dead. Xorvek had later explained that he had tried to bite off more than he could currently chew. He had gotten caught up in a bloodlust, which had clouded his normally sharp perception. You thought it had made sense, so you had forgiven him for nearly killing you as well in the resulting battle.

On the plus side, you and the rustblood managed to get a shitload of grist from it, plus some weird types you hadn't seen yet, like Amber, Jasper, Lapis, and Agate. Overall, a very interesting but extraordinarily stupid escapade.

You've been forced to quickly adapt to Xorvek's many interesting quirks. Like his extremely annoying habit of interrupting you when you want to be interrupted. For example, when you're editing and expanding upon your already quite expansive maps. Or the worst example, when you were using the load gaper. You almost used your beast communion powers to set the Mulekind on him. Almost.

Unlike him, you have some gogdamn morals. Not to mention a very good moirail, which if he doesn't have one, would explain a lot about his behavior.

Despite this, he has been extremely useful in assisting your progression through the game. His combat skills are clearly refined and practiced until no possible mistake could have been made. In your opinion, he could have been on par with even the strongest of Indigo bloods, as long as he managed to avoid every single blow.

Which is why he was unfortunately necessary on this particularly important mission.

Your objective: the Command Center for Factory Block 1030-G. Specifically, the one your own hive landed in. You need to blow this place sky-high, as doing so will save thousands of unfortunate consorts. Even better, you can do it without innocent casualties, as through careful reconnaissance you've found that only Dersites and underlings work in the building. This will be your first encounter with the dark-shelled creatures, and you've been learning what you can from your sprite, which you prototyped with your lusus, a nine-tailed nutbeast which you named Sykkim, and then with some spare weed you have when the job really gets to you.

The result was an extremely wasted lusus which you aren't sure is better or not.

But still, you got the information you required. Any negotiating will be somewhat difficult, seeing as while both carapacians and trolls are insectoid in nature, the native languages of the two species are fairly different. The trolls have a smoother, more buzz-based language while the shelled creatures have a dialect of clicks and hisses. They did have a lingua franca between them, however: sign language. Thankfully, you know barely enough to get by.

You and Xorvek are currently hiding in an alley. The Command Center was placed directly in the middle of a large circle chock-full of factories. These circles covered the planet, and in the areas in between were deep, cavernous pits. Monstrosities were said to lurk down there, which is why the chains were established between the circles: in order to keep one from falling over and sending all of the inhabitants into the abyss.

You shake your head to clear the thoughts from your mind. While they are important, they're not the issue. This gargantuan monstrosity of a building is.

You focus on harnessing the dormant powers inside you. You've never realized it was there until now, but a golden energy has been bubbling and churning inside you since you were a mere wriggler. And now, it can finally shine. You give it an outlet to the surface, in a controlled and careful manner. It flows from your breast, coating your kite shield in an ethereal glow. When it dissipates, you can feel the power radiating off of the somehow more powerful object in your hands.

You glance over at your fellow lowblood, and you watch as his fingers tighten around his weapon, and his eye twitches slightly. He's itching to have some fun, you reckon. And you'd be cruel to deny him that.

It's go-time.

Phonix: Assault.

You launch from the alley, surprising the Giclops guards at the building's entrance. They recover from their momentary shock, and roar threateningly in an attempt to scare off the intruders. However, it's extremely hard to do that when their timelines are suddenly slowing down, freezing the poor brutes in mid-air. Two powerful shots ring out, and identical holes are made in the gigantic eyes of the gigantic underlings. Seconds later, the Giclopses began to speed up again, and you got the gruesome show of the shame globes collapsing inwards in slow-motion. You suspect that's exactly why Xorvek had bothered to slow down time for the creatures.

Unfortunately, the death of the tanky underlings set off the alarm. Violet force fields apparate into existence in every conceivable exit to the plaza. Red alarm lights flash on every corner of the building, and a siren winds up from the roof of the building. The reinforced entrance doors swing closed, but you smirk and channel your Hope energy through the shield once more, slicing downward with the sharpened edge.

Six inches of solid steel fall apart in an instant.

Xorvek rushes over at an incredible speed, using the time he stole off the Giclopses. His manic laughter echoes down the hallway, as your braid is thrown into the air by the sheer speed of which he passes. You chuckle and rush into the belly of the beast with him.

Underlings continuously try to get into your way. They fall shortly after. Grist is collected, and stairs are ascended. On the third and final floor, the control rooms turn to offices, the walls painted violet. You slow down your previously frantic pace, as none of the underlings seemed to have followed you. It's quiet.

The hallway in front of you seemed to stretch into eternity. The windows of each door were boarded up, and peeking into the offices seemed futile. You glanced at your rustblooded ally, and he too seemed unnerved by the silence. You made a gesture to him, one that asked "should we proceed?" Xorvek thought for a moment, then nodded.

Your footsteps echoed into the hallway, identical door after identical door passing with the movements. Every few steps, you think you spy a face looking past the boards, but if there is one, they vanish quickly. Small hairs prickle upwards on the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being watched.

A click breaks the silence, and your bloodpusher skips a beat. Your head flails wildly, searching for a tripwire that may have been triggered, or a rifle raised.

Instead, you realize it's the opening of a door. As you raise your weapons to the source, you see that the Dersite who emerges has no weapons of their own. You've never gotten the chance to see a carapacian up close as of yet, but the first thing you notice is the complete lack of distinguishing facial features, except for a pair of white eyes. They're surprisingly expressive, however. You see so many things in those eyes. Fear. Wonder. Regret. Anger.

Hope.

The creature clicks at you in what you can only guess is shock. You return your shield to your Mapping Modus, leaving your hands free to use sign language. Hello, you say. It snaps out of its temporary hypnosis, and responds. _You she?_ it asks. Or, those are the words you can understand. _I speak little hand,_ you respond.

_I understand. You happiness fighter?_

_Yes, I happiness fighter. Teach word?_

_Yes, yes._

_It shows you words, which you can only assume are what you are hoping for._

_I "Knight of Hope?"_

_Yes! You Knight of Hope. Or just Knight._

_Knight better._

_I understand. Why here?_

_Free animal._

_How?_

_Kill building._

He seems shocked for a second, but recovers with a steely determination. We no like job. We help you. He scrunches up his face in concentration, and emits a strange and high-pitched hiss. It takes a second, but you hear the sound of doors: hundreds of them, opening all at once. From each, one Dersite emerges. The creature clicks loudly, you can tell from the sheer determination in his eyes that he is trying to rally the Dersites.

And it's working.

In minutes, you have a small army of active Carapacians. You're extremely impressed by the rallying ability of the first. You he or she? you ask.

_I he._

_What name of he?_

He stops for a moment, thinking about how to convey his name.

_W-V._

_What?_

_I name WV._

_Why?_

_We made, not born. Science place._ He holds up his wrist, only to reveal a square of barcodes. It's slightly unnerving.

_I understand. You WV, no change._

_No want change anyway._

You laugh at his humor, however small it may be, and hold out a hand for the Dersite to shake. He smiles(?), and takes it.

Vive la révolution.

Phonix: Be the Dersite.

Oh, but you didn't specify. You've returned to the mind of Jack Noir, also known as the Sardonic Subversive. The streets of Derse's moon are empty, just as you had hoped. Your power here is almost absolute, which is exactly why the residents of the fabled moon fear you. Of course, you're not sure what they would think of you if your scandalous actions made public news. But for now, it serves your purpose.

Your objective is to spark a Dersite rebellion. And the easiest way to do that is by gaining the allegiances of the Heroes on this particular moon.

The Knight.

The Heir.

The Sylph.

The Mage.

The Rouge.

And most importantly, the Page. The key to all of your endeavors lies with her. Not to downplay the power of the others, especially the Knight. But she has the power to show them their heart's desire, and to learn how to take it for themselves.

Ah, finally. The Page's tower.

Most people think that the towers are inaccessible. Thankfully, that's a lie to keep snoopers from disturbing the Heroes in their slumber. At the base of each tower is a hidden entrance, which leads up the gigantic pillar of violet stone to a trapdoor within their sacred rooms. Each trapdoor was hidden uniquely and differently, so if one was accidentally found, the others would still be secure. In the Page's case, you needed to enter from the sewer system running below the main streets.

The gigantic sewer grate is heavy, but it easily pops open with a little leverage and of course, your trusty crowbar. You make sure to carefully replace the grate to its original position once you're on the ladder below, and you slowly descend into the filthy catacombs.

Carapacians, like all animal species, produce waste. Most of it is liquid waste, due to the diets of your kind. However, they do produce a second kind: excess molting. You need to shed your carapace every once in a while, or else it gets too tight, dry or restricting of your movements. Thus, there's plenty of it down here.

Every step is a wet crunch, as your foot lands in wet exoskeleton. It's dirty, grimy and nasty, but you have your mission. You're getting seriously paid for this, might as well do it right. You did bring a pistol, just in case. If shit hits the fan with a Hero in the room, then you'd better be somewhat prepared.

You round a corner, and a door appears at the end, the stone emblazoned with the mark of the Page, yet without a doorknob. You grin, and place your shelled hand against the door. In response to your touchThese types of doors are magicked, like the Queen's Ring and the King's Scepter, so that only a Carapacian can use them.

In response to your touch, the door flashes bright magenta around the edges, then slides into the wall. A staircase is revealed upon the other side, leading upwards to the Page's keep. According to the numerous books you were forced to read while in Derse Academy, each tower contains exactly nine thousand, three hundred and seventy-three steps, with an unfortunate lack of elevators. You're just lucky that your genetically enhanced body will get you up about four hundred of the steps before you need a rest.

Eight thousand, nine hundred steps to go.

Jack: Ascend.

It takes you some time to reach the trapdoor below the Page's room. A few hours, you'd guess. You really need to buy a watch. But when you do finally reach the top, you make sure you're not exhausted when you head in there. Maybe you can even learn some things important, if you do some eavesdropping below the room.

You press the side of your head to the ceiling. You don't have extended ears, unlike the heroes, so this is the best you can do. However, unlike what you expected, you do hear conversation.

"...honestly surprising you're so c/\lm on /\ pl/\net which /\nts to murder you."

"not vryon wants to murdr m. just you, apparntlly."

"Shut your fuckin mouth, l/\nddweller. Show some proper respect to your superiors."

"you do realliz th hmospctrum dosn't mattr anymor, right? sii-ing as our plant is dad and gon."

"Then wh/\t do we h/\ve left to remember our culture by? You're not quite /\ lowblood, so for fucks s/\ke, show some decency."

"nah. w have th biggr pictur to look at hr, and biased bullllshit isn't hlping. i miin, you'r staying with the forfront of th bllood quality movmnt. how do you hav room to be this much of a jackass?"

"Th/\t's my w/\king body. This is Derse, where the only l/\w is the Bl/\ck Queen's l/\w. Unlike you, however, I'\/e been dreaming here for as long /\s I c/\n remember. The Queen knows me \/ery well, /\nd we'\/e formed a temporary /\lliance. She's wh/\t it truly me/\ns to h/\ve power."

"you'v sidd with the lliteral nmy of our ntir sssion?!"

"She's only /\n enemy if you f/\il her. I don't intend to."

"why ar you vn hr, if not to fuck with m?"

"I w/\nt you to join me, by pledging loy/\lty to the Bl/\ck Queen, just /\s I did. No matter how much I re/\lly w/\nt to cull your l/\nddweller /\ss, I h/\\\/e my orders. This d/\y h/\s been coming /\ long fuckin time."

"fuck no. i havn't dreamd on thiz moon very long, but I can sii that sh's crul, and hr subjcts ar crul as a rsult. it's just like back home, xcpt on a smallr sca-"

The person with the strange accent cut herself off, as though she had a realization. "Do you see now?" asked the sharp-tongued Hero. "Just like home. We could rebuild our society here, ex/\ctly the w/\y it w/\s."

"))it suckd bullgs th way it was, but at lliist I undrstand your motivations now. now gt this fuckin straight: fuck off and gt th fuck out of my tower, siidwllllr."

"I'm /\fr/\id not. Unfortun/\tely, I'\/e been instructed to kill your dre/\m self, should you decline the Bl/\ck Queen's generous offer. It w/\s extremely unple/\s/\nt knowi-"

You burst in through the trapdoor, your stealth gear carefully applied to obscure your face. You've dealt with this troll before, and he's a serious threat to your continued existence. Might as well get him out of the way.

Jack: _STRIFE!_

You throw a specialized knife at his throat, which he carefully deflects with one of his own. The Mage grins with his pointed teeth. "Well well, look who we h/\ve here. /\ dissenter? /\ tr/\itor to Derse, Tsk, the Bl/\ck Queen won't be ple/\sed to hear th/\t. /\lso, I'm not sure why you bothered to hide your f/\ce, Jack. I'm the Mage, I knew you were coming."

Shit. You hoped you wouldn't have to kill the Hero, but it seems like you have no choice now. You snarl, and begin a duel of blades with the violet-clad troll. Clanging metal echoes through the room, you and your opponent each trying to gain the upper hand. Experience alone won't be enough, you realize, for the Mage is equally experienced in your weapon of choice.

Time to play dirty.

You go in for a sweeping kick, your steel-toe boots gaining the advantage over the Dersite sleepwear. "SHIT," the troll yells, falling on his ass in a hilarious fashion. Now's not the time for laughing, however, so you fling your knife forward. It would take up less time than attempting to stab the grey-skinned Hero, and time is of the essence.

Time slows for a moment, as the Mage attempts to deflect the glimmering blade. It's too late, however. The carefully sharpened tip plunges into the Mage's brow, and violet blood gushes from the wound like a fountain. Previously scathing eyes empty of definition, leaving them glazed and unfocused, all traces of his violet heritage in the coloring of his irises vanished.

The Mage is dead.

Jack: Abscond!

The Page stares at you in shock, her own olive eyes wide. You hiss at her, seeing as you lack the ability to speak their language, and gesture to follow as you leap through the small window of her tower.

You decide to let yourself fall about two thirds of the way before opening your parachute. The Dersites below watch in shock, then scatter for their apartment blocks, allowing you to land and unclick yourself from the parachute without any civilians getting in your way. The Page lands beside you, wobbly from the flight. She's clearly unused to the ability, but she'll catch up fast. Once again making the "follow" gesture, you dash into the alley nearest to you, darting between streets quietly and efficiently. The Page does her best to follow, but not without stumbling over a few trash cans.

You'd find it funny if time were not of the essence.

You open the door to an abandoned building, the windows boarded up to obscure the views of any nosy bastards. The Page rushes in, and you follow suit. You're still not safe yet, however, which is why you gesture to the transportalizer pad you have in here. The Page holds up her hand, and stares you down carefully. "who ar you?" she asks. You pause, searching for an appropriate name.

"Spades," is the only word you say. The girl seems slightly confused, if a little flustered, but goes with it anyway, and steps onto the pad. A split-second later, she is gone, with only the faint smell of ozone left in his wake. You follow seconds later, while also removing a detonator from your coat. No one can trace the jump to you.

Jack: Erase the evidence.

The slight rumble after you click the button is your confirmation of success.

The Page, meanwhile, is observing her strange new surroundings. The transportalizer was set to take you to your own government-sanctioned home, in the Nacht District of Derse's moon. Thanks to your very high status as Royal Advisor, you managed to get some damn fine living arrangements. Of course, the constant threat of death doesn't help you enjoy what you have. If you fail, the Black King will sever your head. If you advise him wrong, he will sever your head. And if you really piss him off, then the Bitchy Quack will be the one to kill you.

And everyone knows that she plays with her food before she eats it.

Jack: Speak to the Page.

You take a notebook from your pocket, and refresh yourself on the written language of the Heroes. You can't really talk to them any other way, until you figure out how to move your hidden mandibles the way you're supposed to in order to pronounce certain characters. The "rrrrr" sound gets you especially, as you're really not built to make it.

You scribble some words on the page, and hold it up for the tall Hero to read. "Welcome," you write. The Page flashes a grin, and holds out her hand for you to shake. "sup, spads. any particullar riison you brought me to this plac?" You frown slightly. 'Because it's one of the few places you could possibly be not in danger on Derse. Not much is safe, but you could at least be in no immediate danger.'

She nods. "aight, i can accept that. i know shit about this worlld, and sinc you savd my llif from a homicidal fish, i'llll take your word for it. spiiking of which, why did you stop that bubblle-bllowing jackass from dicing m up lik sushi?" You have no idea what sushi is, but you get the gist of what the Page is going for. 'In exchange for saving your life, I want a favor.'

For a second, she merely stares at you. Then, a gigantic, pointy-toothed grin stretches from ear to ear. "i hav a fiilling w'r going to gt on xtrmlllly wllll," she says. "you'r th typ of prson who isn't afraid of doing som shady shit to gt what h wants, and i can rspct that. whatchu niid, spads?"

Jack: Elaborate.

You explained the details of your plan. A rebellion is needed in order to significantly weaken the Dersites enough for Prospit to have a chance. A rebellion would be the last thing Derse expects, with the Dark Monarchs believing they still had almost the entire incipisphere under their iron fist. In fact, their grip had begun to slip within the past few years. With the arrival of the heroes challenging their authority, it was the perfect time to strike.

A secret underground movement had already formed, the seeds of which were originally sown by yourself. You instructed her to seek them out, after she fully prepared herself for the task, and then recruit the other Heroes. She didn't have long either, as it would only be a matter of days before the Mage's body was discovered and the Black Queen would blow the remaining towers to smithereens in order to seek vengeance.

Unfortunately, you couldn't assist her on her task, as with the war with Prospit ramping up, the Black King would call you back to the Battlefield, where you would most likely remain for the rest of the war. She would just have to make do.

Your financial compensation depended on it.

Jack: Be someone else.

"Come on, Geartl! Faster!" You're… someone. You don't want to give your true name, it's too dangerous if you give it to the wrong people. But right now, the last hopes for the survival of trollkind are depending on you for their own lives.

The first is a virgin Mother Grub. She was older, but she could still reproduce, she just hadn't had the chance yet, as the older Mother Grub was still in service. Now, it was her time in the spotlight. It was said she had raised a few Jadebloods before, yet it was only the most recent wriggler who had given the custodian a name: Geartl. The custom was a fairly recent one in Alternian culture, the act of naming your lusus. And even then, it was still a custom mainly only done by lowbloods, as highblood lusii were very distant from their charges.

You're just glad that the virgin Mother Grub was willing to exit the brooding caverns with you.

The second, and far more important hope for the future, is the tiny infant grub wrapped in your arms. She's currently sleeping, as she attempts to recover strength from her instinctual rush to find a lusus. There is none for her, poor child. This is the third time you've smuggled a newhatched from the Brooding Caverns, but the first in which you've left the cave with your unnatural charge. If the surface world was foriegn before, now it was even more so. Trolls on the warmer end of the spectrum stayed away from the polar regions for a reason, and even with protective clothes it could be potentially dangerous.

You shiver, even with your thick baabeast pelts. Geartl is suffering from this cold as well, making your trek north all the more slow and dangerous. Keep going, your thinkpan urges. These two… they must survive.

And you're more than willing to sacrifice your life in order to do it.

?: Be the Goldblood.

The nights, you've found, absolutely terrify you. They never make you feel so alone, so insignificant… and it's all because of the lack of stars. The skies are empty, save for the asteroid belt known as the Veil. Outside the session, the void stretches into eternity.

And every once in a while, there are stars. Visible for only a brief moment of time, before vanishing. They are not warm, comforting stars… they are filled with malicious intent, greedy and cold. In fact, they aren't even stars. They're eyes of the Outer Gods you've heard so much about. The monstrosities that lurk beyond the Veil, unfathomably large and infinitely evil.

Thank whatever true gods that exist that they're not focused on you. They're focused on your guest, the blueblood. After the discovery of the dream selves, you've discussed the things you've each gleaned from the terrors beyond Skaia's light. Minor visions, whispers of things to come, both good and bad. But something tells you that not all of what they're saying is true. Something almost instinctual, buried within your subconsciousness.

You despise them. Even more so for the apparently even more disturbing visions they're giving your first actual friend in a long time. Vallem's mentioned a couple of them: a rainbow army, charging towards a gigantic monstrosity on a planet of black and white; a tealblood, their entire body ripped into hopbeast-sized pieces, bone and all; and by far the most disturbing one, of an glowing, flashing, erratic, incomprehensible mess slowly consuming the incipisphere with a monstrous appetite.

You just wish you could help alleviate the nightmares, the ones that burst in when he doesn't dream of the violet moon. They're filled with blood, his darkest fears, and they're almost always caused by the Outer Gods. And because of that, you completely despise them. No one should have to suffer this much anger, this much fear. It's brought so much destruction, mental and physical. You would never wish what you had inflicted upon you… upon another.

And yet, he endures it with a smile. You seriously hope there's a trick to doing that, and not just his natural personality.

You're brought out of your thoughts by the whispers, which seem to reverberate inside your recuperacoon as you try (and fail) to rest. Despite your inability to sleep yourself away to Derse, the whispers still try to ensnare your thinkpan with temptations, visions of a future you would like for yourself. Thank goodness you're experienced enough with identifying lies that you can see the blatant falsehoods in them. It's like they're not even trying anymore. You project your thoughts to them, and they snarl angrily, before retreating back into the darkness. You smile in satisfaction, as it feels damn good to finally fight back against something.

Then the pained growls and hisses make you think otherwise.

You quickly exit your recuperacoon, brushing off the excess sopor from your sleepwear, and rush over to the spare recuperacoon you had found lying in your hive's subterranean blocks. The blueblood inside is clearly having one hell of a nightmare. The horrorterrors didn't retreat, they merely switched targets. You mutter a string of curses because of your idiocy.

You wish you could get rid of his pain. You wish you could just get rid of his suffering. You nearly scream in frustration, balling your hands into fists so tight you nearly break the skin.

Naerys: Do the ragey thing.

And a relieved sigh emerges from the sleeping Vallem's mouth. He readjusts a little bit, and his breathing returns to normal.

Meanwhile, your breathing has hit the brakes faster than a mag-lev omniscuttlecaravan. You cannot believe you did that. Was it actually you? His nightmares have never just suddenly stopped only halfway through the night. There has to be another explanation. And yet, you cannot seem to find any. You actually got rid of his pain, his fear. That shouldn't be possible, but if what the other trolls said about manifesting powers was correct…

Something in the back of your mind corrects you. You didn't get rid of it… only moved it. As if on cue, a strange sensation forms in your palm, and the room is illuminated with a dark purple light. You raise your hands, slightly sore after your claws dug into them, only to find a strange, ravenous fire within your grasp. It almost seems to scream at you, aching to latch onto something and devour it, reaching its terrible tendrils out and then recoiling at the open air, only serving to make it hungrier.

Naerys: Interact.

You almost seem drawn to it, like it's calling to you… you take your other hand and tou-

**_BLOODBLOODDEATHSUFFERINGFEARCONSUMEPAINDEATHBLOODHUNGERFEARMINE-_**

You gasp and recoil, nearly launching the evil flames at the wall. You need to get rid of this, before it latches onto you or back onto Vallem. In a blind panic, you open up your window and launch it out into the red, sandy wasteland. You watch it descend from the plateau, and connect to a basilisk without legs and with the feathery hood of your lusus. It almost immediately begins convulsing and screaming, though you can barely hear the screams from this distance.

You almost sympathise with it. Almost.

"))Naeryz?" a weak voice comes from behind you. You turn around, and Vallem's head peeks out from the rim of his recupercoon. "))What are you doing up zo early?" You sigh, and lean on the windowsill, letting the wind flow through your dyed hair. "~not very tired. go b4ck to sleep, you need it.~ Instead, he just yawns and carefully steps out of his 'coon. He joins you at the sill, watching the starless skies turn by.

"))Tzhe nightz here are zo dark compared to Alternia. No moonz, and Zkaia izn't az intenze az our zun, zo we don't get that purple hue on tzhe horizon."

"~since when h4ve you known this stuff?~

"))Zincze I became a chronic book addict. Not to your level, of courze, but I did get tzhrough a large number of non-fictzion bookz."

"~re4lly? i could never re4d those things. too boring, 4nd too re4l. i much preferred the f4nt4sies or the science-fictions, or wh4tever else was interesting.~"

"))I preferred tzhe fantazy zide of tzhe fictional zpectrum. Ezpecially onez tzhat are from tzhe Signless Era. I am interezted in tzhe Dictatorz era as well, zeeing az my anczeztor waz directly involved with him."

"~m4ybe you could te4ch me 4bout it sometime. might give me 4n ide4 for 4 story ch4r4cter!~"

"))I… tzhink I'd like tzhat. I'd like tzhat a lot."

"~i h4d 4 feeling you would.~"

You stand with the blueblood for a minute, enjoying each other's company.

"))...tzhank you. For getting rid of my nightmarez."

"~4ny time, V4llem. 4ny time.~"

Naerys: Be the purpleblood.

You're once again Arsunn Turpis, and you've found you really like your role as the WITCH OF BLOOD. Your powers have begun to manifest quickly, and you've used it to its full extent to wipe any intruders to your tower off the face of the Land of Grass and Fractures. You have the undying loyalty of your employees, and forged new contracts with the local scalebeast consorts, who refer to themselves as the "Komodokind." You quickly asserted yourself as their leader, and began teaching them about industrialization.

Unfortunately, it didn't go well. The consorts tried, sure, but your tower appeared in one of the few places where there was a lack of fault lines and earthquakes were not a common occurrence. No wonder the poor things were so primitive; larger structures would never hold under the strain of an quake every three hours.

Not to mention they couldn't get metal, as going underground was nigh suicidal. So any machines would have to be made out of less durable materials, and that would never work. So much for your dream of building a city around you. A nice town would still do nicely, you have enough room in your anti-quake zone for that. Luckily, you have some company, both with some experience in making things look good.

Tazend, the tealblood and the SYLPH OF BREATH. An expert in fashion, as well as interior design. He also had some good ideas for the architecture of your buildings, but he's not the architect to make it happen. Your other guest is in charge of that. Rauvar, the indigoblood and the BARD OF MIND. You have no idea how he's a Mind player though, because all he tends to do is laze around and do what he wants. He might tinker with the metal parts he brought along, but other than that he's fairly useless. You were lucky you got him to revise and give the specific blueprints for the various architectural designs Tazend made, but that's about it.

But right now, none of that matters. You are getting the best goddamn makeover you've had in a long time, by the hottest troll you know. And you'd be a damn liar if you weren't feeling his charms. "#alright_sweetie," he says, his voice like candy to your ears. "#im_applying_the_final_touches_to_your_gorgeous_hair. #then_you_get_to_see_my_masterpiece." You blush slightly purple, knowing that he is intentionally doing this to you. And as much as you dislike being manipulated, you kind of enjoy it. Though you have no idea if that's you or your heart speaking.

Eventually, after fiddling with your blanket of curly hair for a few more minutes, Tazend spins you around in your chair, and gives you one of your small hand mirrors. Your breath hitches quickly. Not even your top stylists could hope to make you look this good. Tazend truly had a gift. "#howd_i_do?" the tealblood asked. "AB$O£UT€£¥ IN¢R€DIB£€," you respond. He smiles, and takes the plastic sunglasses from his eyes and nestles them in his own extremely well-trained locks. "#of_course_it_was. #it_was_my_work_after_all."

He leans one arm on your chair, and gestures to every aspect of your respiteblock. "#ya_know, all_of_this_tells_me_one_thing," he says. "#you_need_some_me_time." You tilt your head, curious as to his meaning. "₩HAT DO ¥OU M€AN? I G€T ₱£€NT¥ OF M€-TIM€." Tazend just seems disappointed. "#girl, when_was_the_last_time_you_took_a_break_from_your_work?" You scoff slightly, a confident slime on your face. "ABOUT T₩O ₱€RIG€€$ B€FOR€ THI$ ₩HO£€ THING $TART€D."

The tealblood's face darkens. "#thats_it, purpleblood. #were_going_out, and_were_going_to_fuckin_party." Your eyes widen. "WHAT? NO, I HAV€ TO MANAG€ M¥ €M₱£O¥€€$, AND TAK€ ¢AR€ OF TH€ KOMODO$, AND-" You're cut off by Tazend's clawed finger pressed against your lips, followed by a light "#shoosh" that echoes in your respite block. You blush so hard it could pop a blood vessel, that was so unspeakably pale you want to die. "BUH," you manage to get out. "#no_need_to_say_anything, girl" he says in an extremely seductive voice. "#lets_blow_this_pla-"

Your door bursts open, and you whip your head around to see Rauvar, panting heavily, and bleeding indigo from several small cuts. "A DERSSITE BATTLE CRUISSER IS RAPIDLY DESCENDING RIGHT TAWARD USS, SSAW SSTAWP WITH THE PRISSSY MAKE-YAOWVER SSESSION AND GET THE FUCK YAOUT HERE IN CASE IT FUCKING ATTACKS!" he yells at the two of you. A cold lance of fear pierces your chest, and you leap from the chair, grabbing your titanium arena stickball bat as you rush towards the elevator, the tealblood right behind you as he equips his own Grubese-based "Wind and Fire Wheels."

The ride down all one hundred and fifty-three floors seems to take way too long. Troll Shakira's voice in the background does nothing to ease your near crippling anxiety.

A quiet 'ding' announces your arrival at the ground floor, and you rush through the lobby doors to find the poor Komodos hiding in fear. The gigantic Dersite vessel hangs silently above the half-built town, the shadowed violet metal menacing to all who see it. It contrasted powerfully with the light yellow sky, making it all the more prominent as the center of your attention. A black upside-down pentagon is emblazoned on the side, with six appendages emerging from the top.

You reach into your pocket, and retrieve your homing stickball. If you launch this thing with your bat, it'll find anything you consider an enemy and whack it upside the head, before returning to your outstretched hand. You don't think you'll need to use it just yet, but you're keeping it handy just in case.

Slowly, about a minute after you exited the building, the violet warship began to descend, landing heavily in a nearby field, while sending a shockwave of dust through the abandoned streets. Your cover your eyes quickly, feeling a couple small rocks pelt your face. So much for the makeover. When you glance back, you see a door on the side of the hull opening, followed by a ramp extending towards the ground.

And from the darkness within the ship, a squadron of Dersites emerges. Powerful rifles in hand, they march in single-file down the ramp, giving off an impressive display of power. In the middle of their line emerged an impressive figure. He had impeccable posture, and a very nice jacket with a red diamond on the front. His face was a cold, calculating mask, and you could gleam nothing from his eyes either.

The squadron stopped a few feet away from you, forming a horizontal line. The diamond-clad Dersite stepped carefully through the line, approaching the three of you with his hands behind his back. "Greetings, Heroes." he says. His voice carries an edge, which makes every atom in your body scream in warning. "It's so good to finally meet the three of you, as we've heard so much about you. The Sylph, with your honestly impeccable fashion sense. The Bard, with your fiery personality. And of course, the Witch, with your no-nonsense attitude. Combined with the other nine, you'd be a true force to be reckoned with."

He stops for a moment, and then chuckles. "I apologize, where are my manners? I am the Draconian Dignitary, but you may call me DD."

Rauvar holds up his hand, almost commandingly. "WHAT DAW YAWU WANT FRAWM USS?" he asks.

"Well, that's quite simple my friend. I don't want to have to fight you in this coming war, which is why I'm here." DD smiles with a clearly practiced kindness, which his eyes do not reciprocate. "I want to make an alliance of sorts. If you side with us, or merely stay out of our way, we'll provide you with very generous compensation."

You raise an eyebrow. "£IK€ ₩HAT?"

"Well, you are clearly wise in the ways of the economy and business, your tower tells me that much. We could easily begin to rely on your company for manufacturing, and you'd become a gigantic economic powerhouse within the Incipisphere in a matter of days. For the Sylph, we have access to hundreds of textiles, allowing you unlimited creative freedom. And for you, my good Bard, you could get the same thing but with your extensive interest in engineering."

He leans in, a small smirk on his face. "We could give you everything you want, and everything you don't know you want." The Dignitary leaned back quickly. "Of course, you don't have to make this momentous decision right away. We'll give you about… five days time. On the skaiaset of the fifth day, we will return for a verdict. I hope you will-"

"#no."

DD stopped suddenly, before slowly turning to face Tazend with a growing frown. "No? Is that your final answer?" You snap out of your own thoughts. DD and Derse were not to be trusted, and you let that silver tongue of his egg you on. "¥€$. ¥€$ IT IS. G€T OFF M¥ ₱£AN€T, ¥OU HARD-SH€££€D BITCH." DD laughs, and completely drops the emotional mask. "Well, that won't do at all. I gave you a chance, heroes. Perhaps I should have mentioned that there was a condition, should you choose to not accept." A spear formed in his hands, the tip in a perfect red diamond, just like his pin. "A painful and drawn-out death." He levelled the spear forward, and the soldiers fired.

Arsunn: _$TRI₣€!_

Sweeps of training and millions of sweeps of instinct sent you into immediate action. You summoned your powers, drawing the blood emerging from Rauvar's cuts to make a thin but powerful indigo shield. The three of you launch into a nearby alleyway, a bullet grazing your cheek and shattering a few of the bricks. "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT," the indigoblood whispers, pulling his own weap- holy shit, that's a rocket launcher.

A rocket appears from his sylladex, which he carefully places into the tube. Rauvar takes a deep breath from next to you, and emerges from cover, clicking the trigger. There's a rush of pressurized gas, which ignites to launch the aerodynamic missile forward. The Bard ducks behind cover again, but not before yelling "CAWVER YAWUR EARSS!"

The resulting explosion nearly knocks you into the other wall, and it rips several bricks from your cover. Pained screams follow, as well as frantic sounds of worry and strain. Grimly, you note that Rauvar must be a damn good shot with that thing. You stand up, throwing your homing stickball into the air and smacking it with your powerful bat. The ball launches towards the enemies at it's usual 90 miles per hour, and you hear clunk after clunk as it slams into skulls, jaws, even the occasional groin. Your ball zooms back into your hand, and you feel accomplished with the numerous groans you've induced.

Arsunn: Send a message.

You confidently step out from behind your cover, slinging you bat over your shoulder. There's a smoking crater in the middle of the street, and surrounding it is the remains of the squadron, groaning and clutching either their head, their groin, or nothing at all because they're knocked out cold. Others are bleeding heavily, most likely the initial casualties of the rocket's blast.

The most startling part of it all was the fact that they were all bleeding bright, candy red. It was downright disturbing that someone could have such a brightly colored hue in their blood, unlike the darker colors that trolls are known for. Well, except for the Signless. And even then, he was a mutation. A freak. It was strange enough for an entire species to have only one blood color, but to have it be that bright? It was unthinkable.

You walk towards the group, and especially towards the Dignitary, who saw you coming towards him and was trying to stand, to little avail. You grab him by the hem of his shirt, your highblood strength making it easy to lift the carapacian. "TH€R€'$ $OM€THING ¥OU $HOU£D KNO₩ ABOUT U$ TRO££$," you say. "TH€R€ MA¥ NOT B€ TOO MAN¥ O₣ U$ AN¥MOR€. ₩€ MA¥ NOT HAV€ TH€ $AM€ T€¢HNO£OGI¢A£ ADVAN¢€M€NT$ A$ ¥OU AN¥MOR€." You throw DD across the street, and he crashes heavily into a wooden wall with a sickening crack and the sound of wood smashing.

You head towards him once more, and he stares up at you defiantly from his position of "half-stuck in the wall." You rip him out again, and drop him unceremoniously into the cobblestone below. You bend down, placing your mouth by… well, he doesn't have an ear, but he has a small, oval-shaped hole in the side of his head, so you just assume that's it.

"BUT W€ AR€ $AVAG€, RUTH£€$$, AND A ₣AIR AMOUNT O₣ THE TIME, ₩ITHOUT M€R¢¥." you whisper. "$O DO…" You kick him in the side, launching him towards the violet ship. "NOT…" You intercept the flying carapacian with your bat, knocking him straight towards the sky. "FU¢K…" You perform something only a highblood is capable of: a super jump, where the average jump height is about two hundred feet. "₩ITH…" You finally catch up to the poor Dersite, who was just starting to fall. You punch him right in his abdomen, sending him back towards solid ground like a meteor. "...U$!" And with one final blow, you launch him right back into the ship.

You land back on the ground softly, dusting the backs of your hands off on your skirt. The Dersite squadron must have seen you, because they're running extremely quickly back towards the ship, metaphorical tails between their legs like a scared woofbeast. One stops briefly, asking silent permission with his eyes if he is allowed to rescue DD from his fate. You give him a slight nod, and the diamond-clad Carapcian is quickly dragged away. Soon after the dark-shelled creatures vanish into the violet hull, the ramp returns to the ship, the door closes, and the ground rumbles as the warship ascends into the yellow-tinted clouds, and vanishes.

You smile, your mission accomplished. You walk slowly back into town, swaying grasses slowly turning to rustic cobble. The Komodos are emerging from hiding, hugging and celebrating that the crisis is over, and that they're safe. "Praise the Witch!" one yells, and the rest take up the cheer a second later. Tiny Komodo children hop around their parents, oblivious to the danger they were in. A band starts playing, and the whole town begins to dance to the beat. The party was in full swing.

You chuckle. "THAT DIDN'T TAK€ £ONG," you say, your voice full of amusement and mirth. You turn to your other troll companion, only to find them staring at you slack-jawed. You have a staredown for a solid three minutes, before at least Rauvar's thinkpan catches up to what he had seen. "HAWLY FUCKING SHIT," he said. "THAT WASS THE MAWSST IMPRESSSIVE DISSPLAY YAOF HIGHBLEWD SSTRENGTH I THINK I'VE EVER WITNESSSED." You frown. "¥OU'R€ A HIGHB£OOD TOO, ¥OU $HOU£D B€ ¢A₱AB£€ O₣ TH€ $AM€ THING$." The indigoblood just shook his head, and flashed a grim smile. "I'M AFRAID NAWT. I HAVE THE SSTRENGTH, THE PAWWER… BUT I DAWN'T KNAW HAW TAW USSE IT. I NEVER REALLY EXERTED MYSSELF, BECAUSSE I DIDN'T WANT TAW. AND NAW…" he gestured to himself. He was fairly skinny, and there were no rippling muscles beneath the skin, like most highbloods. Of course, the muscles were hidden in most cases by the thick skin of most trolls, but it's definitely almost always… there. With him… there just wasn't. "I'M WEAK."

Tazend put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "#rauvar," he says. "#just_because_youre_a_highblood… it_doesnt_mean, under_any_circumstances, that_you_have_to_be_strong. #mentally_or_physically." Tazend smiles, and pulls the blueblood in for a hug. "#be_yourself_and_see_where_it_takes_you," the tealblood murmurs. "#dont_let_yourself_be_weighed_down_by_expectations." Rauvar seemed shocked for a moment, before sighing and returning the hug. "YAWU'RE LUCKY I'M NAWT GAWING TO CRUSH YAWUR FUCKING SSPINE."

"#awww_i_knew_you_loved_me"

"DAWN'T PUSH IT."

You laugh, and grab the hands of your blueblood companions. "OKA¥, TAZ€ND. I'M TAKING ¥OU U₱ ON ¥OUR O₣₣€R." You start to pull them towards the Komodo party, but you stop to wink at Tazend. "JU$T ₣OR ON€ DA¥." He raises an eyebrow. "#well_fuckin_see_about_that." You blow a raspberry, and rush into the crowd. Rauvar grins, the obvious challenge setting fire to his eyes. "BET YAWU I CAN CATCH HER BEFAWRE YAWU DAW."

"#bring_it_on."

The rest of the day is spent in merriment. Drinks are dispensed, music is played, and the celebration continues long past the setting of Skaia in the east. You invite all of your employees in for a well-deserved break, as protecting the tower doesn't come easy. Yes, even the lowbloods. Poor things couldn't last more than a few hours of partying. You don't blame them, though. It's just how they were hatched.

All of you are having fun, getting flat-out wasted, and forgetting all of your troubles. Just for one night.

It's only then you realize: you wouldn't have it any other way.

Arsunn: Be the Heir Apparent.

You, Jeriax Valern, _something_ of _something,_ have been having some serious issues doing anything on this stupid planet of yours. There is way too much _nothingness_ for your liking. It's somehow suffocating; having all this murky water around you, but with absolutely nothing but the odd bioluminescent frog around. It was so completely and utterly boring.

You've chatted with the other trolls, but at least their planets have something. Little consorts, villages, the odd destination for a quest delivered by said consorts. But not… this.

You sigh, and return to your tower. At least you know where that is in the abyss. It takes time, as this planet is gigantic, but eventually the fuschia spire emerges from the darkness. You look down, seeing the barren mountain where your lusus once was. She had taken off a day ago, finally leaving back to her home in the furthest ring. You still have no idea how she got out of this planet, as you haven't found the exit as of yet. Then again, maybe you've missed something important.

You observed the tower. The sloping mountain of stone vanished into the darkness below, the coral that had come with you slowly dying off due to the lack of light. It was starting to get to you as well. You needed something to look up to, other than the sickly yellow of frogs.

Suddenly, an old memory came back to you. You were nothing more than a grub at the time, somewhat coherent, and you still needed to be cared for by Gl'bgolyb. "D1d y0u ever care f0r any 0ther grubs?" you had asked. _yes,_ she had whispered to you.

"H0w many?"

_too many to count, little one_

"...where are they?"

_far above our heads, in the endless abyss known as space_

"W0w! What's space 11ke?"

_very, very, empty and so, so full of nothing as far as the eye can see_

"1f there's n0th1ng there, h0w d0 they get ar0und?"

_you won't understand until you're older_

"Awwwww! At 1east te11 me s0meth1ng!"

_when you grow up, and you join your sisters in the stars, remember this: in space, there is no up or down, as it is only a matter of perspective_

That's it! You've been looking at everything from the wrong way. You thought that the key to your troubles was upwards, that you were sitting on some ocean floor and the surface was up. But what if… it was down? In fact, what if you were upside down this entire time? You quickly turn to what was "upside down" and is now "up," seeing your giant hive from a brand new viewpoint. You swim towards the mountain, watching it slowly curve into the darkness. You follow the rubble, the crags and rocks that cling to the mountain, watching the spire fade behind you, and the darkness… fade?

You put on an extra burst of speed, you need to go faster! Come on, please, it has to be…

You burst into fresh air, launching from the waves just like a delphinbeast. You just launch a lot higher, about a good thirty feet higher. Then again, you are probably the strongest troll in this session, so it makes sense you'd have more power launching out of a churning sea at fifty miles per hour.

You glance up, noticing how the sky above you is pitch black, only permeated by the light of something you were beginning to think you'd never see: Skaia. It was a lot bigger than you'd imagined, and you realize the planets you all are on must orbit fairly close to it. You also spot some of the other planets, full of energy and movement. You kinda wish you could get there, but for now, you're stuck here.

You glance around, making full use of your time airborne. There, in the distance: an island. Tropical, and most likely the opposite side of your hive's mountain. On this side, there's what looks to be the remnants of a volcano, but it must have blown itself apart in a particularly powerful eruption, as all that's left is a crater with an elevated ring. You quickly swim towards the island, welcoming the feeling of openness and solid ground the island will provide.

The feeling of having sand between your webbed hands and between your equally webbed toes is almost orgasmic: you haven't felt that feeling in so long, even before you entered the game. The air is clean, warm and comforting. Everything is so inexplicably…

_...off._

A frown forms across your fishy features. Something's not right here, and you can't seem to tell what it is. Is it the plants? Maybe a little bit, seeing as they're so vibrant and bright. Most plants back on Alternia were darker-shaded, in order to absorb less of the devastating sunlight. But here, where the "sun" is kinder…

No, that's not it, you realize. It's something else. The answer seems to be right on the tip of your tongue, and you can't quite seem to grasp it.

Jeriax: Investigate.

You decide to head inland, and see if you can find anything of use, that might give you something of an idea of where to go from here. You take a deep breath, and begin walking towards the large brush that obscures the interior jungles.

You set one foot inside the plant barrier, and promptly get yanked up in the air by a rope trap. Great. You're just lucky all those dancing skills paid off, you're too flexible for your own good. You bend upwards, quickly untying the knot around your foot, and fall straight into a handstand. One half-backflip later, and you're back on your feet.

This does mean one thing though: this island is inhabited. You're really hoping it's consorts. If it's those nasty underling guys everyone was mentioning, then you're ten shades of fucked.

You proceed with more caution this time, carefully spotting the numerous traps in the forest. Many are creative, as well as cleverly hidden, and with each step you take, it gets harder to spot them. Whoever was making these must have assumed that whatever was smart enough to make it past the first line of traps was more dangerous.

Eventually, after nearly getting your head bitten off by a slingshot containing a cholerbear trap, you stumble upon a beautiful clearing, with a field of wildflowers covering most of the grasses. You take a deep breath, letting the various scents fill your cartilage nub, and it's honestly quite nice. It would honestly have been a lot more pretty if the sky was a nice and calm purple, like back home, but it was not so.

You slowly try to pick your way through the fields, keeping a careful eye out for any potential traps. You don't see any concealed metal traps, any slingshots, or tripwires.

Until the pitfall trap goes out from under you. You let out a highly unruly glub as you fall, landing an extremely distant fifty feet down, even through the bedrock. Even worse, you hear a metal grate sliding above the entrance, blocking your escape.

Great.

You get to your feet, dusting your expensive jacket off. You glance up, seeing the grate, blocking a very small hole in the ceiling. The sides of your prison curved upwards, making climbing out extremely difficult, and the grate just made it impossible. The trap maker(s) were clever, you'll give them that.

You'll probably be here for a while, so you might as well get comfortable. You quickly stand up, and prepare to activate your Dance Dance Revolution Modus. You hear the signature start-up sound in your head, and several moves to copy. They're fairly easy, due to the simplicity of the item you're trying to retrieve: your husktop. It pops into your hands, and you prop yourself up against a rock, as it's the most amount of comfort you're going to get in a hole.

Jeriax: Check notifications.

Hm, seems you actually don't have any this time. Thank goodness. Might as well start up a convo, you have no clue how long you'll be in here for.

deceitfulAquatic[DA] has begun trolling fulfillingQuadrant[FQ].

DA: Heya cyan! 1ast 1 heard y0u were head1ng 0ver t0 the purp1eb100d's p1ace.

DA: D1d y0u make 1t a1r1ght? And what's 1t 11ke 0ver there, anyway? M1ght as we11 fam111ar1ze myse1f w1th the p1anet's 1'11 be v1s1t1ng.

FQ: #oh_yea_i_made_it_over_perfectly_fine

FQ: #it's_been_pretty_cool

FQ: #ya_know

FQ: #meeting_new_trolls

FQ: #assisting_the_consorts

FQ: #anyway_the_planet_is_just_full_of_grass_plains_and

FQ: #unfortunately

FQ: #plenty_of_earthquakes

DA: S0unds frustrat1ng.

FQ: #not_too_much

FQ: #as_long_as_you_dont_go_too_far_out_youre_fine

DA: G00d t0 kn0w. Anyway, 1 wanted t0 check 1n because 1 l1tera11y have n0th1ng e1se t0 d0. F1na11y managed t0 f1nd S0METH1NG 0n th1s p1anet, and 1 1mmed1ate1y get stuck 1n a h01e. H00ray.

DA: 1'm just wa1t1ng f0r the masterm1nd beh1nd a11 0f these t0 c0me back and check 0n h1s traps.

FQ: #might_as_well_keep_you_company

FQ: #im_on_break_anyway

DA: Break fr0m what?

FQ: #im_helping_the_consorts_build_a_new_town

FQ: #turns_out_they_hate_the_quakes

FQ: #such_a_surprise_i_know

DA: My, my! That was 0ne 1mpress1ve d1sp1ay 0f sarcasm, we11 d0ne.

DA: 1t w0u1d tru1y be a shame 1f s0me0ne were t0 best me 1n what can 0n1y be descr1bed as a "sass-0ff."

FQ: #such_a_shame_indeed

FQ: #an_event_like_that_would_be_catastrophic

FQ: #to_lose_your_crown_to_someone_clearly_so_much_worse_than_you

FQ: #truly_a_travesty_for_the_history_books

DA: 1 tru1y rue the day that may happen t0 p00r, 1nn0cent me!

DA: *dramatic s1gh*

FQ: #okay_i_cant_fuckin_take_this_anymore

FQ: #wtf_are_we_even_doing_lol

DA: Hehe, 1 have n0 g1ubdamn 1dea.

DA: Anyway, 1 f1na11y managed t0 f1nd s0meth1ng 0n th1s p1anet. Turns 0ut everyth1ng was ups1de-d0wn, and 1 was g01ng 1nwards rather than upwards.

DA: 1 f0und a pretty c001 1s1and, and n0w, as ment10ned bef0re, 1'm stuck 1n a h01e 0n that 1s1and.

FQ: #well_at_least-you_found_something

FQ: #probably_should_have_guessed_that_by_the_fact_that_you_weren't_complaining_about_the_water

FQ: #i_mean_do_you_know_how_ironic_that_is

FQ: #a_seadweller_getting_sick_of_the_sea

DA: Shush up, 1anddwe11er.

DA: 0h, 1 f0rg0t t0 ment10n: d0 y0u have any t1ps f0r burst1ng thr0ugh s011d meta1?

FQ: #condesce_above

FQ: #this_mysterious_trapper_knew_his_or_her_shit

DA: 1'm pa1nfu11y aware, see1ng as there's a meta1 grate b10ck1ng my 0n1y way 0ut 0f this h01e.

FQ: #well

FQ: #you_could_try_to_dig_your_way_out

DA: G1ub n0, my jacket w0u1d get s0 d1rty, and 1t w0u1d ru1n the fabr1c. Y0u of a11 pe0p1e sh0u1d understand the a11ure 0f n0t ru1n1ng c10thes.

FQ: #i_also_didnt_know_you_were_wearing_the_good_shit

DA: 1'm a seadwe11er, 0f c0urse 1 get t0 wear the g00d sh1t.

DA: Wh0 d0 y0u th1nk 1 am, s0me rustb100d?

DA: Hmmm... n0w 1'm rem1nded 0f 0ur 11meb100ded fr1end, she must have n0 g00d c10thes at a11… th1s w111 need t0 be remed1ed when 1 f1na11y meet her.

FQ: #well_were_all-going_end_up_on_the_heirs_planet_at_some_point

FQ: #whoever_that_is

DA: Hehe, yeah...

DA: Ummmm... 1 may 0r may n0t kn0w wh0 that 1s.

FQ: #i_already_know

FQ: #it_wasnt_too_hard_to_figure_out

FQ: #and_for_the_record

FQ: #i_dont_blame_you_for_hiding_it

FQ: #probably_would_have_done_the_same_in_your_position

FQ: #but_uh

FQ: #you_know_we_aint_on_alternia_anymore

FQ: #right

DA: Yes, but h0w much d0 y0u want t0 bet there's st111 qu1te a few hem0spectrum be11evers wh0 came w1th us?

FQ: #im_thinking_a_few_thousand_boondollars

DA: Heheh. But yea, 1'm keep1ng th1s h1dden unt11 1 can't h1de 1t anym0re. Sure, 1t m1ght be s0mewhat ch11d1sh, but 1t's the way 1've 11ved my ent1re 11fe.

DA: 1t just seems s0 very f0re1gn 0f a c0ncept t0 just be a11: "Hey everyb0dy! 1 was supp0sed t0 have been cu11ed at hatch!"

FQ: #you_dont_have_to_be_that_fuckin_blunt

FQ: #well

FQ: #actually_do_that_to_the_violet_blood_hell_lose_his_shit

DA: 000000, thanks f0r the 1dea!

FQ: #no_problem_brother

FQ: #anyway_the_others_should_be_okay_with_your_thing

FQ: #seeing_as_the_rest_of_us_arent_casteist_fucks

DA: 1 have to adm1t, 1 am c0ncerned ab0ut the rustb100d. He 1d011zes me, but 1 d0n't th1nk he w111 1f he 1earns 1'm a freak 0f M0ther Grub Genet1cs.

DA: 1 als0 get the fee11ng he w0n't be 0pp0sed t0 cu11ing me 0n the sp0t.

FQ: #hes_a_rust_blood_pumpkin

FQ: #even_a_midblood_would_be_able_to_restrain_him

FQ: #all_we_gotta_do_is_get_his_strife_specibus_away

DA: He's a fuck1ng master w1th that th1ng. Glubb1ng damn1t, 1 am s0 fuck1ng b0ned.

FQ: #if_you_live_or_die_youre_boned_either_way

FQ: #;)

DA: The fuck d0 y0u mean by that?

FQ: #nothing

DA: Ummm... okay.

DA: Wa1t, 1f y0u were ab0ut t0 say s0meth1ng, h01d that th0ught... 1 th1nk s0me0ne's c0m1ng.

You glance up, hearing the footfalls upon the field outside. From the sound of it, it's definitely more than one. In fact, it might be quite a lot. You frown slightly and reach into your sylladex once more, quickly finding the moves to remove your trident. It's not the double-ended trident also known as the "culling fork" that most fuschias are known for, and you honestly prefer it that way.

Several shadows obscure the hole in the roof, plunging most of the hole into total darkness. Luckily, your night vision kicks in, and you see a group of... okay, you have no idea what they are. Adorable snouts, elongated bodies, sleek fur, and the most shocking thing of all, dark grey coloring. It was the complete opposite of the standard white of almost all lusii on the planet.

Freaks. Just like you.

"Hey, you "obbers" or wh/\te\/er the fuck you c/\ll yoursel\/es. Get out of my Condesce-d/\mned w/\y, or so help me gog I will skin you and h/\ng your pelts on my w/\ll."

The sharp voice strikes a nerve, similar to a reaction you'd get upon hearing claws on a mineralscratchpanel. Your fins fold up slightly in aggravation, and your frown turns to a scowl. "((morvis... kindly shut the fuck up... before i get the juggalo to join us on our excursion,))" another voice says to him. Feminine, quiet... and powerful. Could that be-

The grate opens up, and bright Skaian light blasts you full force in your tyrian-colored eyes, and instinct forces you to cover them with your arm. When you glance up again, you see the limeblood smiling at you, a look on her face that says she was highly amused. Meanwhile, your seadweller friend was simply staring at you with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. Shit, he saw through your disguise.

"A 11tt1e he1p?" you ask. Khepri chuckles, and begins talking to the "obbers" or whatever they're called. The grate is removed, and a small ladder is lowered into the hole. You eagerly climb up, and are faced with a small village's worth of the obbers. One in particular emerges at the forefront, and he seems much older due to his lighter grey fur. "Seer," he says in a raspy voice. "We, the Otterkind people, sincerely apologize for the trap. We've had to place these things all across the island in order to keep the underlings away, and even then a stray basilisk gets through."

"1 understand," you say. "1t was a matter 0f surv1va1, and 1'm n0t upset at the t1me 1 spent 1n there. 1 am a b1t surpr1sed you're here," you say to your troll companions, known as the Mage and the Prince. Or would it be Princess? You have no idea. Morvis scoffs at you. "It w/\s better to come here th/\n be stuck with the mut/\nt motormouth." Khepri narrows her eyes, but doesn't do anything.

"((well... at least we know who the heir is now...))" she says, running an appraising eye at your body. You suppress the urge to shiver, as you realize she is a lot less fragile than you thought she would be. "Y0u seem a 10t d1fferent fr0m when 1 f1rst chatted w1th y0u," you say. "What changed?" She just smirks at you. "((nothing... i was feigning weakness in order to see potential enemies and allies...))"

Fuck, that was smart. You quickly find yourself being more and more impressed and intimidated by the shorter troll. If only you had been an obscure figure like her, then you could have done the same thing. However, the entire planet knew who you were, so there was no chance of that happening. "S0 what n0w?" you ask them. Khepri shrugged. "((i guess we'll get settled into the vill-))"

She stopped mid-sentence, and her eyes narrowed into slits. You prepare to ask her what's going on, and then you feel it: every tiny hair on your arms and legs begins to stand on end. Tiny honkbirdbumps form in a sweeping wave across your skin, and you know something's going to happen. Something big. Morvis feels it too, as he quickly takes a couple of knives from his belt. Even the otters seem more on edge.

Something gleams in your peripheral vision. You glance towards it, and you realize it's Skaia, high above. It's beginning to shine brighter than any star, and the blue clouds are lost to the light, turning everything

pure

white.

Jeriax: Be the Mysterious Jadeblood, ten minutes before.

You're now the Mysterious Jadeblood, ten minutes ago. You, the grub and Geartl have been given the highest priority on the ship, seeing as she's most likely the last Mother Grub in existence. You haven't revealed your face though, it would be too dangerous. This grub must be kept secret to these strange troll children and the many high-ranking officers on this ship for as long as possible. Or, preferably, just a few minutes.

"I hope you feel comfortable," the captain of the ship says to you. You nod beneath your hood, making sure to keep him talking. "This ship is state-of-the-art, built only a few sweeps ago as a replacement to the older ship I was also in charge of. Carbon-fiber, titanium, it all went into this ship…"

You slowly make your way through the metallic halls, the clanking of your boots on the floor echoing into the distance. You keep an eye on where you came from, making a mental map inside your head in case you had to run. Door after door passed you by, the names of privates and soldiers and various storage rooms embedded into the metal.

Come on, just a little more-

"And here we are. I'm sorry this room had to be hastily arranged in order to accomodate for the Mother Grub as well, seeing as you're the only Jadeblood on the ship who has active experience taking care of one," says the Commander. You stand before a metal door, with some technicians working to engrave your symbol on it, as it was the only thing you allowed them to have. Virrius, the sign of the vindicated. It was better than giving them your name.

You enter the room, seeing Geartl resting quietly in the corner. A recuperacoon was set in the corner, and several living essentials were moved to the far corner in order to make room for the massive girth of the Mother Grub. A loungeplank sat in the middle of the room, however, and you carefully rest your weary body on it. The grub in your arms squeaks slightly, but curls up tighter. Commander Aashio raises an eyebrow at the grub.

"I apologize for inquiring, but why the secrecy? Especially towards the grub." Shit, he's catching on. You have to say something. "There are still quite a few rouge trolls here, who wish to stay and rebuild society, and have taken to killing and stealing from anyone who they come across," you say, hoping to throw them off your trail. "I had to be stealthy, which is incredibly hard in the desert wastelands."

He narrows his eyes. "What are you hiding, Jadeblood? You are obviously lying." Oh, no. "N-Nothing, Commander." His face goes from accomodating to angry in a matter of seconds. "Lower your cloak. Now." You reach a hand up, very slowly, and lower the fabric mop of curly hair is revealed, and spills past your shoulders. Thank the Signless you're perfectly average. "Show me the grub, as well." You recoil slightly. "I-I'm afraid I can't do that, Comm-"

He barrels towards you, wrenching the poor grub from your grasp, and the cloth wrappings that had been keeping her content fell to the ground.

A set of pure, stark white, and intelligent eyes stared up at the purpleblood. They were not blind eyes, not in the slightest, as they had a light in them which no one had even seen before. You were equally shocked when you had seen them for the first time, just before the meteor storm struck. The grub's segmented body was pure white as well, the black claw-legs contrasting to no end.

She was the first snow-blooded troll.

Her hair was a curly mess, falling to just below the chin. A pair of long, curving horns emerged from the sides of her head, resembling those of an antlerbeast, just without all of the branches. She radiated innocence, purity, and intelligence far beyond what a newborn grub should be capable of.

It was then that you knew: Commander Aashio would kill that grub without remorse, because it stood against everything he had even been taught, everything that had been drilling into his head since hatching. You needed to move, and you needed to move fast.

Everything happened in slow motion from there. Your muscles tensed, preparing to launch toward the highblood. And then, you were moving. Step by step, the highblood came closer into view. The snowblooded grub stopped smiling, realizing the danger she was in. Aashio reached into his sylladex, and removed a bladed fan, sharper than you could ever image. You began to scream, the sound coming out muffled behind your pure terror and instinct to protect her.

The fan descended.

A strange look appeared on the grub's face. She was focused, and determined. She looked toward you, and you suddenly knew, without any good reason for knowing it, that everything would be okay.

The room dissolved, and you closed your eyes.

* * *

"))I'm almozt done, give me juzt a zecond!" Vallem said, using the sewing needle to stitch the sleeve of his flarping outfit to the main part of the hastily-done musical conductor's coat. Naerys simply chuckled, her outfit already long done. "~you're too focused on perfection, 4nd you're prob4bly not going to get it.~" she said in response.

"))I know tzhat, I juzt want to be better than dirt! And tzhis is juzt zo terrib-" he cut off, watching as everything suddenly grew brighter. The blueblood glanced upward, his eyes widening as Skaia exploded with ligh-

* * *

"-*nd th*t's the l*nd of dr*m* *nd st*tic*" Phonix said, pointing out the planet with the numerous spotlights flowing through the atmosphere. Xorvek nodded, committing the information to memory. He would need to know his way around this unfamiliar solar system, seeing as it's quickly becoming a battleground.

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't boring as hell, however.

Xorvek sighed, glancing down at the book in his lap displaying the how-tos of travel in space, as well as the complexities, roles and machines that came with it. Strange, the planet was usually very dark, so why was the roof so bright?

He looked up, and Skaia was shining with a golden powe-

* * *

-ow thats som fuckin armor," Gedema said, examining her iron armor. It wasn't anything close to the smooth, welded shit that the Knights of old were known for, as in order to make it, she'd made some scrap armor, combined it with a titanium panel she found while looting some abandoned buildings, and the result was armor comprised of several titanium panels held together by leather straps and bolts.

It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

"_I assume ieou want to kick some underling tail?_" Firrin says, inwardly amused at the oliveblood's passion. Gedema grins. "fuck ys, llts gt out the and do xactlly that." She chants a warcry, and bursts through the door, and the jadeblood follows quickly after, equipping her crystal scythe.

Something's wrong, the oliveblood realizes. It's too bright. She glances upwards, and sees Skaia for only a fraction of a second before her vision goes whi-

* * *

The indigoblood known as Rauvar sat on the roof, the cool wind whipping through his hair. He had discarded his jacket, as it was getting too hot in the building, and now simply wore a black tank top, his sign embedded on the front.

The blue skies had vanished, as Skaia had set a few hours ago. That did not prevent him from seeing how on the horizon, the light grew brighter. And brighter, until it was like the sides of the planet were encased in pure light. He assumed it came from Skaia, as it was shining on the side encased in daylight, but this was beyond what he could have ever thought possible. Something was going on.

Even stranger, he thought that he heard demented screams from the Furthest Ring, where only Horrorterrors lurked. They must truly hate the light.

He needed to contact everyone, right now. He didn't know what that light source did, but he knew that whatever caused it was powerful. Was this even normal for the session? He simply didn't know. It was time to do something important, to do something meaningful.

Time to use his head for a change.

* * *

You open your eyes.

You are no longer on the ship. Instead, against all odds, you find yourself in a strange world. A bright blue sky, full of fluffy white clouds, and the soil is covered in black-and-white squares. Several castles loom in the distance, golden flags waving in the light breeze.

And once again, against all odds, She is in your arms once more. She stares up at you, a small smile on her face, with those beautiful eyes that just scream intelligence. You nearly burst into tears with happiness, but you settle for hugging the poor grub close to your breast. You have never felt this much love for something before, and you make a promise to yourself that you would never let anything happen to her. She's your little bundle of light. Your sun, your star in the darkness.

Your little Solani.

**END OF ACT 1.**


End file.
